Lessons Through All Of Time, Space, And History (A DW AU)
by GirlWhoWaited
Summary: Kennedy Humphries is an average American college student with a British roommate and a huge secret. More specifically, her roommate is Clara Oswald, and the secret is the size of a blue box. Alongside the Eleventh Doctor, Kennedy and Clara travel all of time and space when they really should be studying. You'd better take good notes.
1. Episode 1: The Institution

Kennedy Humphries trotted along the sidewalk on her way back from a psychology class. Wayward strands of hair dangled in her face as she struggled to keep her eyes open. It had been another long, sleepless night of worry and stress and fear for the future.

Nothing that wasn't unexpected of a typical college freshman.

She dragged her feet along the path, reaching for the cell phone in the pockets of her shorts. Someone else was walking towards her from the opposite direction, and she didn't want to talk to him. She didn't talk to guys. She didn't talk to anyone.

Kennedy struggled to type in her passcode with one hand, balancing a lanyard jingling with keys in the other. Once she'd finally managed to type in the four digit code, she pulled up Twitter and scrolled through her timeline listlessly, keeping one subtle eye on the tall, lanky man as he approached her.

"Ello!" A jovial British accent greeted her from six feet in the air. The man waved, smiling brightly as the distance between them began to close.

"Hi," she offered a small wave, keeping her attention mainly on her screen.

"Excuse me, but you don't happen to know where the Joseph residence hall is, do you?" he inquired, straightening the red bow tie that adorned his simple suit.

"Um, yeah, actually," she answered shyly, not meeting his eyes as she slowed her pace. "I'm headed there right now."

"Brilliant!" Spinning on his heels to change directions, the man matched Kennedy's stride step for step. "Oh, you don't mind if I tag along, do you?" He fumbled in his pocket for a moment before presenting her with an ID card. "Maintenance! New to the campus, I'm afraid."

"That's fine," she mumbled, slipping her phone back into her pocket as she hoped and prayed she knew what she was getting herself into.

"I'm the Doctor, by the way," he tittered on, making pointless conversation as they neared the residence hall. "Do you have a name, or anything else that you go by?"

 _Just the Doctor?_ she wondered, though she didn't say anything aloud. It was a college campus, after all. _To each his own._ "Uh, Kennedy. Kennedy Humphries."

"Kennedy Humphries!" he declared, smiling as if the name were a delicious sweet. "Brilliant name!"

"Um, thanks," she nodded, adjusting the straps of her backpack.

"So, Miss Kennedy Humphries, what brings you here this fine Friday morning?" the Doctor asked.

"I live here," she replied matter-of-a-factly. "I mean, I'm a Sunshine Southern State College student. Journalism major. Freshman."

"Ah, receiving an education! The most brilliant of aspirations!" The Doctor beamed with the idea. "Tell me, Kennedy Humphries, why have you chosen journalism as your field of study?"

"Because I like to write," she shrugged.

"That's as good a reason as any," he replied. "I would have studied history myself, but we didn't have college where I'm from. Everyone just knew everything already. And what you didn't know, you learned from experience. I did study medicine in Glasgow, and I have an honorary degree from Cambridge. A friend of mine studied archeology. She's a professor now, or she will be when she gets out of prison. But that's sad. I don't like to be sad. Why be sad when you could be happy? What makes you happy, Kennedy? Let me tell you what makes me happy: books, adventures, and jammie dodgers! I also enjoy a bit of karaoke now and then. Do you like karaoke?"

"When I'm by myself in my room," she laughed. "Or when it's Taylor Swift."

"Taylor Swift," the Doctor repeated, a smile lighting up his face again. "I shake it off, shake it off, shake it off!" he sang loud and off-key, busting out in a dance move that involved waving his arms high above his head. He laughed in delight.

Kennedy cast him a side-eyed glance before she, too, laughed. "You certainly are an interesting guy," she told him. "You're the first one I've met who reacts to Taylor Swift the same way that I do."  
"Why, thank you!" the Doctor replied. "I do enjoy good music."

"So do I," Kennedy laughed, knowing full well that he was probably just making fun of her. Returning to her somber demeanor, she watched her feet as she continued the walk to the residence hall. "Okay, here we are." Fishing out her student ID card from her pocket, Kennedy swiped into the building and opened the door. "It was nice meeting you, Doctor."

"And it was nice meeting you as well, Kennedy Humphries," the Doctor replied, kissing the air beside each of her cheeks in a decidedly awkward European manner. "I hope to see you again someday."

"Thank you, I think?" she replied, keeping a watchful eye that he didn't follow her as she walked inside the residence hall and closed the door deftly behind her.

She shook the odd man from her mind as she trotted down the hall to her dorm room. "Clara, I'm back," she called out as she pushed open the room's heavy door. "Oof!" A selection of textbooks and notes spilled from the backpack that she dropped onto the rug. "Gosh. Sorry."

"Oh, it's no bother, love," Clara assured her, jumping down from her desk chair to help her roommate clean up the mess. "What are flatmates for?"

"Thank you, Clara," Kennedy smiled to her British roommate. Hmm. There seemed to be a lot of British people in her life today. She took a deep breath. "I think I'm going to watch _Sherlock_ before class, if you would like to join me."

"No thank you," Clara replied. "I'm going to do my revisions, like you should be doing."

"But I just got out of class," Kennedy moaned.

"And you have a psychology test Friday!" Clara reminded her. Kennedy groaned. This was what happened when your roommate was an education major. "Here, I'll help you." As Kennedy complained some more, Clara pulled out the psychology textbook from her roommate's backpack and sat cross legged atop Kennedy's messy bed. Brushing her short, dark hair out of her eyes, Clara said, "Alright, Kennedy, Tell me about the socio-cognitive approach to personality."

"Umm… it views personality as, like, a label that summarizes the unique patterns of thinking and behavior that a person learns," Kennedy replied, kicking off her Vans and hopping up onto the bed beside Clara. She had to try twice before she made it. "Gosh, why am I so short? Anyhow, the socio-cognitive approach places an emphasis on the role of learned patterns of thinking in guiding behaviors and the fact that personality is learned in social situations."

"Brilliant!" Clara beamed. "So, in summary, the socio-cognitive approach is all about learning."

"Pretty much," Kennedy shrugged.

"Now, tell me three of the prominent socio-cognitive theories," Clara continued.

With a deep sigh of boredom, Kennedy replied, "Julian Rotter was one, with his expectancy theory. He suggested that you decide to behave in a certain way because of learned patterns of thinking and the fact that we learn our personality by watching other people in social situations. Then, he divided people into two categories based on how we expect rewards and punishments to work in life. Internals expect that they control things through their own efforts, whereas externals expect that things are controlled by outside forces that they can't control."

"You're doing well," Clara nodded. "Now, who's next?"

"Ummmmm… Bandura's social cognitive theory," Kennedy continued. "He saw personality as shaped by the ways that thoughts, behaviors, and the environment interact with and influence each other. He called the way that these three are constantly changing each other in a web of mutual influence reciprocal determinism. It's like a trio of best friends who help each other grow and shape each other's lives, like, if there was a third one of us. Self efficacy, the learned expectation of success, was also important to him."

"Very good," Clara smiled, "And could you imagine if there were three of us? We cause enough trouble as two!"

Kennedy laughed. "Okay, the third prominent theory is Mischel's Cognitive/Affective Theory. He calls learned beliefs, feelings, and expectancies that characterize us as individuals cognitive person variables, and he says that these outline the dimensions on what makes us different. Mischel has a list of the most important cognitive person variable: encoding, our beliefs about the environment and other people; expectancies, our self-efficacy and what results we expect from certain behaviors; affects, our feelings and emotions; goals and values, the things that we believe in and what we want to achieve; and competencies and self-regulatory plans, the things that we can do and our ability to thoughtfully plan behaviors."

"Good, good," Clara nodded, flipping the textbook pages. "Now, how do personal and situational variables relate, consistent with Bandura's reciprocal determinism?"

"Okay, there's another list," Kennedy began, scrupulously scanning her memory. "(1) Personal dispositions influence behavior only in relevant situations, like, an anxious person will be more likely to act anxious when he feels threatened. (2) Personal dispositions can lead to behaviors that alter situations that in turn promote other behaviors, meaning that a hostile guy can start a fight by triggering aggression in his friends. (3) People choose to be in situations that are in accord with their personal dispositions, like how introvert me prefers the library and our extravert neighbors go out and party all the time. And, finally, (4) Personal dispositions are more important in some situations than others, like, for example, at a party, the introverts are more likely to stay back by the snack table while the extraverts are out tearing up the dance floor. But, if they were at a funeral instead, then everybody would be quiet and sad."

"Good, once again," Clara laughed. "And remember that the socio-cognitive approach blends learning theories with concepts from cognitive psych. Its principles are translated into cognitive behavioral treatment procedures, too." She tapped a section of the page. "But they leave no room for the unconscious. Everything is learned."

"Yep," Kennedy nodded. "Thanks for helping me study, Clara."

"No problem!" the British girl smiled. "Now, the humanistic approach-"

Cut off by the sound of the doorbell they had installed, Clara exchanged a confused glance with Kennedy. "Are you expecting anyone?"

"No…" Kennedy answered carefully. "I don't have friends."

"Yes you do," Clara laughed. "Here, I'll get it." She hopped off the bed and opened the door. " 'Ello, mate! May I help you?"

"Yes! I'm maintence. I just need to inspect the crack in the wall. I'm here from maintenance! See my card? Hello!" A familiarly irritating voice followed Clara back into the room. "Miss Kennedy Humphries!" the Doctor beamed. "How good to see you again!" Stepping inside of the dorm, he patted the top of her head. "Who knew you were in 221? Coincidences! I don't believe in 'em. Now, where's that crack in the wall?"

"Bach here," Kennedy answered, jutting her thumb towards the wall behind her. "But I reported that crack month ago, at the beginning of the term. They're just now getting to it?"

"Well, I'm getting to it!" the Doctor replied, jumping up beside her to inspect the crack. "You see, I'm a crack expert. No, not like that- forget I said that. I am an expert at inspecting the cracks in walls. Especially the unexplainable ones! I love to explain unexplainable things" He scanned the long, thin crack with a buzzing green flashlight. When it beeped, he stopped and checked the flashlight. "Uh huh…."

Kennedy jumped down from her bed and sat on Clara's. She wanted to distance herself from this weird man who was quite possible a stalker. "Anyhow, Clara, you were saying?"

"What is the humanistic approach to personality?" Clara inquired, hopping up next to her roommate once again.

"It says that our behavior is motivated mainly by our innate drive to grow to our full potential," Kennedy answered.

"That is quite right," the Doctor inserted, scanning the crack in the wall another time. "It is called self-actualization, and it is going to drive the human race out among the stars."

"Okay," Kennedy shrugged. "Clara, it also says that to explain people's actions, we have to understand their worldview, which is called the phenomenological approach. The humanistic approach emphasizes a positive self-concept, which is how you think about yourself. Also, the conditions of worth are the circumstances in which we experience positive regard from others only when we display certain attitudes or behavior. They're created when people are evaluated instead of their behavior."

"Oi, that was brilliant!" the Doctor smiled. "You two really know your-" He stopped short, staring at Clara. "Have I seen you before?"

"I don't think so," Clara answered, scooting a hairline closer to her roommate.

"It's me that showed you how to get to Joseph," Kennedy reminded him. To Clara, she added, "Perhaps that was a bad idea."

Stifling a giggle, Clara told Kennedy to tell her about Maslow's growth theory. "Remember that Maslow viewed personality as the expression of a basic human tendency toward growth and self-actualization."

"Those weren't his ideas originally, you know," the Doctor cut in. "He got them from a handsome man in a bow tie." With a prideful smile, he straightened the little red bow tie that he wore. "He originally didn't have self-actualization as the highest on his hierarchy of needs. He had 'Netflix and chill…' That is why you should never take a notable psychologist time travelling!"

"Okay," Kennedy laughed. "In real life, Maslow said that most people are controlled by a deficiency orientation, which is a preoccupation with perceived needs for material things. His hierarchy of needs starts with these physiological needs, and then it goes up to safety, belonging and love, esteem, and then self-actualization. But instead, if we have a growth orientation, we draw satisfaction from what we have, what we are, and what we can do rather than focusing on what we want. And then, we have peak experiences, which are where we feel joy in the mere fact of being alive and being human."

"You should feel that way every day!" the Doctor interrupted once again. "Being human is the most beautiful part of existence."

"The humanistic approach is consistent with the way that many people view themselves," Clara said, rerouting our conversation back to studying. "Its best-known application is client centered therapy, and it's consistent with positive psych."

"But some people think that it's too romantic and unrealistic," Kennedy added. "We don't know for sure that people are innately good."

"Oh, yes you are!" the Doctor replied. "Humans are innately good. You just don't believe in yourselves enough. But just wait until you see the rest of the universe!"

"Excuse me, but I don't know why you're still here," Clara snapped at him. "We are trying to study, and you are- what are you even doing? What is that thing?"

"Oh, this? This is my sonic screwdriver!" He tossed the green flashlight in the air and caught it in his other hand. "I'm using it to scan this crack in your wall. here, listen."

The Doctor pressed a button on his sonic screwdriver, and a strange voice tittered through the awkward silence. "Deviance, distress, dysfunction. That's what I measure 'em up as. Deviance, distress, dysfunction."

"Those are the possible criteria for abnormality," Kennedy breathed.

"Abnormal? There's no such thing as normal. Explain those words to me," the Doctor whispered, bending his ear towards the crack in the wall.

"Well, deviance is statistical infrequency and norm violation, as in they're deviating from the normal," she began. The Doctor nodded. "Distress- personal suffering. And then there's dysfunction, which is impaired functioning in daily life."

"Mmhmm…" the Doctor replied, his eyes distant as he concentrated his attention on his ear at the crack. "And what causes these… abnormalities?"

"My favorite model is the diathesis-stress explanation," she answered. "It recognizes the roles of both genetic predisposition and situational factors in psychological disorders. Basically, it says that those with a genetic predisposition towards a certain disorder will be more likely to get it if they're under a lot of stress than someone without the predisposition is."

"Wait, did you say psychological disorders?" the Doctor exclaimed, momentarily forgetting to keep his voice low.

"Ezra-785, do you hear voices?" the same voice as before echoed through the crack in the wall.

"No, I do not," a second, deeper voice answered. "Perhaps you should go in for an exam, Polly-73."

The Doctor quickly zapped the crack with his sonic screwdriver once again, and the voices disappeared. He swung his long legs out from under him, landing on the bed with a _boing._ "I think that you girls should tell me everything you know about psychological disorders. What causes them? Where do they come from?"

"Well, there's the sociocultural model," Kennedy began. Clara stared as her as if she was suddenly displaying symptoms of a psychological disorder. Kennedy just shrugged. What reason did they have not to? It was just studying, really. "According to the sociocultural model, mental disorders have to be looked at through factors like gender and age, physical situations, cultural values and expectations, and historical era. You have to look outside of the person to see what they define as abnormal and what symptoms they associate with a certain disorder."

"History! Brilliant! I love it!' the Doctor beamed. "Kennedy, do continue."

Kennedy smiled. For some reason, she was glad to have made him proud of her. "Well, the neurobiological model says that psychological disorders are caused by physical illness or by imbalances in bodily processes, hence the 'bio.' It includes disturbances in the anatomy and chemistry of the brain- 'neuro'. It's basically the medical model."

"Brilliant. Still love it. Good job, Kennedy. Clara, your turn," the Doctor declared in rapid succession, pointing from one girl to the other. When Clara stared at him in surprise, he gestured for her to continue.

"Well, I suppose you could also look at biopsychosocial model, too," Clara replied. "It says that psychological disorders are the combined result of biological, psychological, and socio-cultural factors. It's kind of like throwing all of the other models into one big sandwich and taking a bite."

"Brilliant! I love it! Yes, brilliant, you are!" the Doctor declared, pointing to his nose with one hand and to Clara with the other. "Biopsychosocial- I love it! I love big words!" He repeated it a few more times, butchering the name worse with each try.

"Personality disorders are the worst, you know," Kennedy inserted, not liking the feeling in her chest when he smiled at Clara. She shook it off. These creepy maintenance man needed to go. "And now, Doctor, I think they probably need you back in maintenance."

"Nope, I'm not a maintenance man," he replied, extracting the ID card from his suit jacket. What he showed her was simply a scrap of paper. "Psychic paper. Makes you see what I want you to see."

She hopped off of Clara's bed and stood in front of the Doctor. "It says, 'Let's go on an adventure'," Kennedy read the paper, her eyebrows rising in confusion. "Um, excuse me?"

Hopping down beside her, Clara read the paper to herself. "No, it says to run."

The Doctor jumped to the floor and stuck his wallet and his sonic screwdriver back in his jacket pocket. He tossed the girls their lanyards and their cell phones. Then, offering a hand to each of them, he whispered, "It's not safe here. If anything gets through that crack, then your entire campus is in danger. Or possibly the whole world. I can take you somewhere safe, or you can help me save the world. Either way, I'm going to need you to trust me."

Kennedy grabbed his hand. Her heart pounded inside of her chest. "I trust you, Doctor."

And they ran.

"Oi! What is that?" Clara exclaimed, staring wide-eyed at the big, blue box the Doctor led them to. "Police box?"

"That's my TARDIS," the Doctor smiled, unlocking the door. "And-"

"It's bigger on the inside!" the girls declared in unison.

The Doctor laughed. "I love that bit."

Kennedy stared at the control room in amazement. Gears and levers and buttons of every sort lined the octagonal control panel on the pedestal in the very center of the room. She ran up to it and ran her fingers along the edges. "This is beautiful."

"Thank you!" the Doctor replied. The Tardis made a noise. "And she says thank you, as well." He ran up the stairs to the controls. Standing next to Kennedy, he declared, "Alright, now hold on! The vortex can be a bit bumpy! Geronimo!"

Kennedy screamed, clutching at the arm railings for support. "What's going on?"

"We're travelling through the time vortex!" the Doctor answered over the loud screeches of the Tardis taking off. "We're going to see whatever's on the other side of that crack!"

"We're going to WHAT!?" Clara yelled, slowly clawing her way to the controls. "What are you, an alien?"

"Yes!" the Doctor smiled. "I am a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey, last of my species, here to save yours!"

"All right," she nodded. "I like it."

The Doctor fixed his bow tie. "Kennedy?"

"Yeah, it's cool!" she agreed. She spent so much of her life reading about adventure and watching movies about heroes. Maybe now was her turn.

"Cool!" the Doctor exclaimed. "I like you! And my bow tie? Is it cool?"

"Sure," Kennedy laughed, taking a deep breath as the Tardis finally landed.

The Doctor led the way to the doors, poking his head outside. Motioning for them to follow him, he crept out of the supply closet that they'd landed in. "Nova-6 Institution for the Mentally Ill," he read from a sign that hung in the hallway. "I know this place. This is where… Never mind." Painting a smile on his face, he took the girls by the hands again. They shuddered when a woman with a cat where her face should have been walked by. "Excuse me, Sister?" the Doctor inquired, stopping her.

The woman paused, offering him a kind smile beneath her strange hat. "Yes, my friend? How may I be of service?"

"Um, you see, my friends and I are here to visit our Uncle Chutney," the Doctor told her. "Could you please help up find him? We seem to be lost."

The cat-lady smiled. "Of course, Mr-"

"Doctor," he finished for her. "Just Doctor."

She nodded. "I believe I remember a Mr. Chutney from the Tivoli unit."

"Oh, boy," the Doctor sighed as they followed after the Sister. "Tivoli."

"What's a Tivoli?" Clara inquired, keeping her voice low enough that the cat-lady wouldn't hear her.

"Tivoli is the most-conquered planet in the universe," the Doctor replied, sounding exhausted of this planet already. "Its people, the Tivolians, are intensely fearful and dread everything. It's so terrible that it's disruptive to their daily functioning."

"Sounds like anxiety," Clara replied. The Doctor nodded.

"This is our Tivoli unit, where we specialize in anxiety treatments," the Sister explained. "Please, feel free to look around for your uncle, just do not disturb the patients. I must get on with my duties. Goodbye."

"Thank you," the Doctor replied over his shoulder, guiding the girls down the halls of the Tivoli ward. The halls were lined with glass enclosures, each housing a rat-like humaniod and what appeared to be a cat counselor. "One-way mirrors," the Doctor explained. "We can observe them, but they can't see us. Old fashioned technology, but it works."

Kennedy peered through the glass at a Tivolian who was crying in the corner while his counselor dangled a spider in his face. "Specific phobias," she murmured to herself. "Phobias that involve fear and avoidance of specific stimuli and situations."

"And there's social phobia," Clara added, pointing to a Tivolian who stood on a podium in front of a crowd, stumbling his way through a speech. "Strong, irrational fears relating to being in social situations." She cocked her head towards a Tivolian clinging to the doorway of a bedroom. "Agoraphobia. Scared to death to be either alone or away from the safety of home."

The Doctor gaped at another Tivolian who was sweating profusely. A heart moniter screen on the glass showed that his heart was palpitating profusely. The alien looked dizzy, too. "Panic disorder," Clara told him. "Anxiety that comes as severe, random panic attacks." The Doctor shuddered.

"And we can't forget generalized anxiety disorder," Kennedy reminded them, pointing out a Tivolian who wrung his hands in his glass room. "Long-lasting anxiety that isn't focuesed on any particular object or situation. You just worry, all the time."

"That one must be Obsessive-Compulsive," Clara whispered, gesturing towards a Tivolian counting to fifteen before he took a drink of water. "Person becomes obsessed with certain thoughts or feels a compulsion to do certain things, and they deal with it through little rituals. Counting, knocking, stuff like that."

"All Tivolians have a genetic predisposition towards anxiety," the Doctor began. "There's also something funky with their brain structure and their neurotransmitter systems. It's biological for them, poor fools."

"Isn't it psychological and environment, too, though?" Kennedy suggested. "I mean, you said that they're the most conquered planet in the universe. That's got to be rough environmental stressor. And then they learn this history, which teaches them to be anxious. And it's got to mess with their cognitive processes, too."

"You are exactly right," the Doctor replied. He did a quick scan of the ward with his sonic screwdriver. "And this isn't the source of our crack in the wall. Let's keep looking."

The Doctor strode through the halls, searching for another possible source of the crack in Kennedy's wall. "Ow!" he yelled, smacking his forehead against a hanging sign that he hadn't noticed. Backing away just enough to see the sign, the beanpole of a man read, "Dream Crab Department. Enter with caution." He beamed at the idea of danger. "C'mon, then! Let's go!"

"What's a dream crab?" Clara asked as the Doctor pushed open the door to the war.

"They induce a dream state while they eat your brain," the Doctor explained. "No one likes a meal that runs away."

"That's awful," Clara exclaimed.

"Shhh!" the Doctor reminded her. "Dream crabs- sleeping! You don't want to draw attention, either."

"Then why is that one awake?" Kennedy cut in, gesturing towards a fainting Tree of Chem. She hit the ground and got right back up. "And what is that thing on her face?"

"It's a dream crab, but it must be dysfunctional," the Doctor replied. "It's making her think and act like she has some reason to be fainting, when in reality, there's nothing wrong."

"Like a somatoform disorder," Clara added. "They're a psychological problem that makes a person show the signs of a physical disorder when there's no physical cause."

"Precisely," the Doctor nodded.

"And look at that one," Kennedy breathed, pointing out a spiky Vinvocci who wore a full space suit and sprayed disinfectant over everything, muttering about being sick. "Hypochondriasis- a strong, unjustifiable fear of physical illness."

"And why is that one wearing a hat on its- neck?!" Clara gaped at a Headless Monk who wore a Stetson where his head wasn't. "Body dysmorphic disorder, maybe. He can't stop thinking about a flaw in his appearance, whether it's actually there or not."

The Doctor murmured in agreement. These girls were clever, a trait that would make them the perfect pair of companions. And the Tardis liked them, too. "See that Tritovore there? All that buzzing he's making is physical complaints, and he's really just being dramatic, because he can't really verify any physical illnesses."

"Like somatization disorder," Kennedy replied. "And there- that other bug one is acting like he can't hear anything. He must have conversion disorder, where someone appears to be but isn't actually blind, deaf, paralyzed, or insensitive to pain."

"And the third buggy thing looks like he's in pain," Clara added. "It's like somatoform pain disorder, where a person complains of severe pain without physical cause."

"These dysfunctional dream crabs can make you imagine anything, I suppose," the Doctor sighed. He shuddered. "Let's get out of here."

"Good plan," Clara agreed, slipping her hand into his. Using his other hand to grab onto Kennedy's, the Doctor quickly guided his new friends out of the dream crab ward and into the memory worm care unit.

"Okay, explain what that is," Clara demanded in disgust, pointing at a long, squishy lifeform hanging from a Hath's head. "Why is the worm eating the fish? Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?"

"That's a memory worm," the Doctor explained. "One touch, and they remove your memories. Give them long enough, and they can wipe you entirely blank." He peered down a hallway of glass rooms, every other one marked with a red X. "Looks like some of the worms are ill, though. "They can disrupt memory, consciousness, or even identity."

"Like dissociative disorders," Clara replied.

The Doctor nodded. "You see that Hath there? He's acting like he's a Peg Doll. The worm must have caused him to forget himself and create a new identity for himself. Happened to me once. Well. a man assumed my identity. Crazy stuff. He tried to build a Tardis out of a balloon."

"Like dissociative fugue," Kennedy remarked. She studied another patient for a few moments. "And that's an actual human being! But he was one of the fish people a minute ago, and now he's like… like a monster!"

"He's a Pyrovile, actually. Well, a Zygon who can't keep his form," the Doctor corrected her. "What disorder would you compare this one to?"

"Dissociative identity disorder, I think," she sighed. "He appears to have more than one identity, each of which behaves in different ways."

"But I don't think that multiple personalities can actually exist," Clara replied. "How does that make sense? Surely it's just an overreaction to stress."

"And there's the controversy over DID," Kennedy stated. "These worms are giving me the creeps! Can we l-"

"This way!" the Doctor declared, suddenly scuttling down the halls as his sonic screwdriver whirred.

"Everyone in here looks so sad and alone," Clara sighed in compassion, wishing that she could reach inside every glass room and give each alien a comforting hug. "It's like they've got mood disorders- conditions in which they experience extremes of moods for long periods, shift from one extreme mood to the other, or experience moods that are inconsistent with events." She led the way down the dark, gloomy hall of the Depression Unit, lingering her gaze over each unfortunate patient.

"She looks like she has major depressive disorder," Kennedy whispered, gesturing towards a Vinvocci who sat alone in a corner. "She must've felt sad and hopeless for weeks now, maybe even months. She's probably lost interest in everything, too. And she can't find pleasure in anything. If it gets too extreme, she could even experience delusions."

Clara nodded solemnly. "And this one might have dysthymic disorder," she said, peering through the glass at another less miserable, but still jaded, Vinvocci. "That's a pattern of sad mood, lack of interest, and loss of pleasure associated with major depressive disorder, only it's to a lesser degree. But it last longer."

"Look at him- he's manic," Kennedy whispered, nudging Clara towards a Zocci who dashed about his room as if he was training for the Olympics. "To be in the Depression Unit, he must've been diagnosed as bipolar."

"Alternating between depression and mania," Clara sighed. "Poor thing. Elated and active for some time, and then suddenly the world's about to end."

"Or, to a lesser degree, he could just have cyclothymic disorder," Kennedy added. "It's like being bipolar, only the mood swings are less extreme."

"What causes them to be this way?" the Doctor mused. "Biologically, they might be genetically predisposed, like in the studies with the Amish communities or the twins."

"You know about the Amish studies?" Clara smiled.

"Of course. I know everything," he muttered, waving a hand at her dismissively. "Of course, it's an imbalance in the neurotransmitters of their brains, too. Or malfunctioning of the endocrine system, disruptions of biological rhythms, yes, Clara, like seasonal affective disorder."

"Well, it could also be psychological or social factors," Clara added. "Environmental stressors, or how they think about their stressors."

"Learned helplessness," Kennedy suggested. "Like those Trivolians, they may have learned to be so dependent on someone else that they feel out of control."

Clara nodded. "Or a negative attributional style, always blaming every bad thing on themselves."

"Or a ruminative style of thinking, where they think about the bad stuff over and over," Kennedy added. "Or a distracting style, where they push off the bad stuff by doing something else."

"I couldn't work here, that's for sure," Clara sighed. "Too much suicidal ideation floating about. Did you know that suicide is the second leading cause of death for people in college?"

"But the rate is higher among men than women," Kennedy replied. It wasn't much consolation, though. It was, well, depressing. "Women attempt three times as often as men."

"And suicide rates in the US are highest among Native Americans and European Americans," Clara told her. "Why are we ruminating over this?"

"Yes, please, let's not talk about the possibility of suicide," the Doctor shuddered, "because I won't let you do it." He looked from one girl to the other. They were his friends now, and the Doctor would lay down his life for his friends. To anyone in the universe that might be listening, he warned, "Under my protection."

"Ooh! Schiz-Ward: Enter with Caution!" Catching the Doctor's reckless curiosity like the common cold, Kennedy bolted through a door at the end of the Depressive Ward.  
"Kennedy! Do not run off!" the Doctor yelled, running after her, dragging Clara beside him.

"Who says?" Kennedy laughed dangerously. She pushed open the door, and she froze in place.

"What is it?" the Doctor demanded to know, rushing to her side. The way she stared, he worried that there might be a Weeping Angel… He followed her line of sight, but there was nothing. "What is it, Kennedy?"

"The voices," she whispered, reaching behind her until she found his hand. Holding onto him tightly, she whispered, "I can hear the voices that keep me up at night."

The Doctor waited, listened.

 _Agra look at the bollli lelleleelele…. Hashwit Jurgoon found a big awwiiii…._

"It doesn't make any sense," he spat, irritated that the Tardis was only translating half of the words. "What does it mean?" He shook his head, but nothing clarified.

"Neologism," Kennedy murmured. "Making up new words." She squeezed his fingers tightly. And loose associations- nothing relates to the other thoughts."

 _Agra run away…. Bopp dul they hate me… Bopp dul they hate me…._

"Make it stop!" Kennedy exclaimed, shoving her hands over her ears. "They hate me! They hate me!"

"Kennedy, shhh, love, it's just ideas of reference," Clara assured her, patting her shoulder. "Remember? The notion that everything, every coincidence, has to do with you personally?"

Kennedy took a deep breath. "Right. Just ideas of reference."

 _Bopp dull they hate you…. Ashjer go eat at the zoo…. Jabba juice jabba chess…._

"Kennedy, do you understand what they are trying to say?" the Doctor asked her quietly, worried that the voices she heard every night might be coming from the Schiz Ward."

"They're in my head," she gasped. "And you can hear it, too! You're intercepting my thoughts!"

"Now, Kennedy, shh, love. There's no thought broadcasting going on here, I promise you," Clara assured her best friend. "It's okay, love."

"But I hear them every night!" Kennedy declared.

"Auditory hallucinations," Clara assured her.

"No," the Doctor corrected her, glaring at a crack in the wall in one of the glass rooms near the end of the hall. "Welcome to the other side of the crack in your wall." Holding Kennedy by the shoulders, the Doctor looked her straight in the eye. "Look, Kennedy, I need you to concentrate. I need your help. I know that it's scary, but I need you to trust me. The voices that you've been hearing are very real, and they are threatening the security of your world. I need you to concentrate on them, track them down. You know them best. Where are the voices coming from, Kennedy?"

"Umm... " she shivered.

"She's terrified!" Clara declared, tugging Kennedy away from him. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm saving your world," he answered, "and I don't really have time to explain. Those voices, they get inside your head. They drive you mad, and when they've driven you mad, they can control you." He gently shook Kennedy's shoulders. "Don't let them control you, Kennedy. Every night sleeping by that crack- the voices are inside of you now. Put them under your control, Kennedy, because you're inside of them, too. Now, tell me, where are they coming from?"

"Umm… uhh…." Squeezing her eyes shut, Kennedy latched onto the Doctor's arm. "That way!" she pointed down one of the hallways. He followed her lead, guiding the girls past the rows of glass rooms.

"Paranoid schizophrenia," Clara remarked, gazing at a Tivoli who was hiding underneath a chair. "Delusions of grandeur or persecution, anger, anxiety, argumentative. Extremely jealous, too. It's often onset suddenly, and signs of impairment can be subtle 40% of all schizophrenics have this one. It appears late in life, after 25 or 30."

"Thank you, Clara, for your input," the Doctor sighed.

"No, let her talk," Kennedy countered, leading the around a corner. "It helps me concentrate."

"Disorganized schizophrenia." Clara pointed to a Kahler who chattered and giggled incoherently as a sad film played on his television. "Delusions, hallucinations, incoherent speech, facial grimaces, inappropriate giggles, and neglected personal hygiene." The Kahler let out a fart to emphasize this last point. "5% of the lot, mostly in the homeless. It's a shame."

"Keep going," Kennedy told her, pulling them around another set of rooms. The Doctor held onto her tightly, trusting this girl he barely knew to help him save her planet. He wondered for a brief moment if he belonged in this Institution.

"Catatonic schizophrenia right there," Clara said, pointing to a giant, rhinoceros-like Judoon who was frozen in the position of a ballerina. "Disordered movement, alternating between total immobility and wild excitement. In the stupor, they don't talk or even respond. It's 8% of them."

She watched a Tree of Cheem change her face from happy to sad to confused. "She's an undifferentiated schizophrenic, like another 40% of them. Patterns of disordered thought, behavior, and emotion that don't fall easily into any other subtype. They just can't quite classify her."

In another glass room, an Ood sat peacefully, singing to himself. "Residual schizophrenia," Clara decided. "That applies to people who've had prior episodes of schizophrenia, but they're not currently displaying symptoms."

"And tell me about dopamine and schizophrenia," Kennedy requested, flapping her hand towards the next turn she wanted them to make.

"There's a theory that too much dopamine in the brain can contribute to schizophrenia," Clara told her. "And in addition, the positive symptoms add undesirable additions to their mental life, like the voices, and the negative symptoms take something away."

"There it is!" Kennedy stopped cold. "The voices- they're coming from in there!" She pointed straight at a crack in the wall of a Dalek's glass room. "And they're screaming your name, Doctor! Doctor! Doctor!" She shivered again. "Exterminate!"

"Kennedy, no!" the Doctor exclaimed, buckling her arms behind her back and hold her tightly to him. "Let her go, Dalek! Stop the voices!"

Eyestalk pointed at the crack in the wall, the Dalek slurred, "Bobli hate… Agra dubbi eat at the agra…. Agra… EXTERMINATE!"

"A schizophrenic Dalek," the Doctor declared in disbelief. "How did you ever end up here?"

"EXTERMINATE!" Kennedy screamed, tears running down her face as she shuddered. "EXTERMINATE THE DOCTOR!"

"Has he infected her with his voices?!" Clara exclaimed in utter horror. " 'Cause that thing is losing it, and now so is she!"

"This Dalek must've gotten damaged when the Pandorica exploded," the Doctor said, more to himself than to Clara. "He must've gotten caught up in the universe, ended up here… Daleks have some of the most powerful minds in the universe. The voices must've gotten shoved in somehow, and now they're spreading through that crack."

"But they've only gotten Kennedy," Clara replied.

"Then only Kennedy can stop them!" he declared. He held her tightly. "Miss Kennedy Humphries, I need you to help me, and I need you to trust me. Kennedy, I need you to be strong for me." She stopped shuddering. "Kennedy, make the voices stop. Put them under your control."

Her eyes squeezed shut as she began to shake again, and she gasped. "EXTERMINATE THE DOCTOR! NO!" she screamed. "No exterminating! No exterminating anyone! Shut up! Just…" She cried harder and harder.

"Kennedy!" Clara declared. "Use your shut up stick!" She handed her a mop that was propped in the corner of the hall.

"The what?" the Doctor exclaimed.

"The shut up stick," Clara repeated. "It's what we bang on the ceiling when the lads who live above us are being too loud."

"SHUT UP!" Kennedy screamed, beating the mop against the glass wall. "Shut up, voices! No exterminating! No more talking! SHUT UP! Leave. Me. Alone." She took a deep breath, and, with a mighty swing, she cracked the glass wall. "SHUT UP!"

Everything went silent.

"Well, that'll do it," the Doctor smiled, cradling Kennedy in his arms as she slowly returned to her own consciousness. "Shh, Kennedy. It's okay now. The voices are-"

"Mine," she finished for him. She said it as if she was reporting the weather. "I control the voices now. They're not gone, so don't lie to me, Doctor." She looked at the Dalek. "I control the voices…." The Dalek spun around and rolled over to her outstretched hand. "And anything that the voices control." She laughed when its plunger touched her hand. "He's mine now." The Dalek's lights twinkled. "And his name is Sven."

"Sven?" the Doctor grimaced. "Everything that is evil in the universe concentrated into one little robot squid, and you call it Sven?"

Breaking out of the Doctor's hold, Kennedy planted a kiss on the Dalek's head. "He's my pet."

"You cannot keep a Dalek as a pet," he sighed. "They're the worst, most vile-"

"Who's a cutie patootie?" Kennedy cooed, making faces in the Dalek's eyestalk. "Who's my angel baby?"

"DALEK-SVEN!" it declared in excitement. "DALEK-SVEN IS YOUR BABY!"  
Kennedy chuckled. "That's a good boy, Sven. Can you tell the Doctor that you're not evil, just misunderstood?"

The eyestalk rotated to the Doctor. He glared back at it. "I…. AM…. DAMAGED…." the Dalek choked out. "I...NEED….LOVE."

"And I'll love you, Sven, baby," Kennedy assured the Dalek, wrapping her arms around it. When the Doctor shot her a look of confusion, she explained, "I've been inside his mind. Doctor, remember? Sven and I are a part of the Voices, and I need to take care of him now."

"Kennedy, do you still hear any voices in your head?" the Doctor inquired.

She shook her head. "I only heard one, really, before they gave out: You are our Queen. I quite like it."

"And you're sure…"

"Absolutely, Doctor," she nodded, protectively clinging to the Dalek. "I know what he is. I learned a lot from the Voices, and from Sven's mind. But it's different now. I'm a part of him, and I'm a part of something bigger."

The Doctor took a deep breath. He would have to keep an eye on her.

And Clara, too. There was still something so familiar about that girl…

"Excuse me… Doctor?" one of the Catkind gently tapped him on the shoulder. "I have a message for you."

The Doctor accepted the slip of paper that she handed him. It read:

Hello, Sweetie

Room 13B

xxx

"What's that?" Clara inquired. "First she hears voices, now you're getting strange messages."

The Doctor looked at both girls with a nervous, pensive expression. "We're going to the psych ward."

"Personality disorders, perfect!" Clara laughed, pushing open the door to the closed-off wing on the thirteenth floor. "Nothing better than a long-term, inflexible way of behaving that creates dysfunction in your life!"

"They're divided into clusters, too," Kennedy added. "First is odd-eccentric: paranoid, schizoid, and schizotypal. So, basically, Sven."

"SCHIZOTYPAL!" Dalek-Sven declared, wiggling his appendages. Kennedy giggled.

"Second cluster is anxious-fearful," she continued. "Dependent, obsessive-compulsive, and avoidant. That's me and Clara without each other." Clara laughed along with her. "And the third cluster is dramatic-erratic: histrionic, narcissistic, borderline, and antisocial. So, in other words, the Doctor." Both the girls and the Dalek laughed.

"I am not antisocial," the Doctor murmured. "But it is my type…"

"That overreacting flooding person thing is histrionic!" Clara declared, pointing to a Flood who was waving his arms about in anger while three Sisters worked to calm him down. "Excessive emotionality and preoccupation with being the center of attention, emotional shallowness, and overly dramatic behavior."

They watched a Tivolian jump in fright when a nurse entered his room. "He's paranoid," Kennedy decided. "Suspicious and distrustful of other, assuming that everybody's hostile."

In the next glass room, a Vinvocci held hands with her boyfriend but pretended not to look at him. "Schizoid," Clara suggested. "Detachment from social relationships, restricted range of emotions."

In another room, a Zygon in its natural form cast another Zygon shifty looks, as if giving it the "it's not you, it's me" talk, "SCHIZOTYPAL!" Sven declared.

"Detachment from, and great discomfort in, social relationships," Kennedy finished for him. "Odd perceptions, thoughts, beliefs, and behaviors."

Clara pointed out a Tivolian who clung to his Catkind nurse, sobbing for her not to leave him and swearing that he would do anything to make her stay. "He's dependant. Helplessness, excessive need to be taken care of, submissive and clinging behavior, difficulty in making decisions."

They continued on through the psych ward a bit further. "I think she may be obsessive-compulsive," Kennedy said, gesturing towards a Siren who was having a staredown with a Sister who threatened to set foot inside her perfectly sterilized room. "Preoccupation with orderliness, perfection, and control."

A Tivolian in the next room cringed as his counselor diagnosed him. "Avoidant," Clara suggested. "Inhibition in social situations, feelings of inadequacy, oversensitivity to criticism."

They were almost at the end of the ward now, following the rooms in descending alphabetical order. Catching his reflection in a glass wall, the Doctor paused to smile at himself. "Hello, handsome!"

"Narcissistic," Clara laughed. "Exaggerated ideas of self-importance and achievements, preoccupations with fantasies of success, arrogance."

"I am not!" the Doctor scowled at the giggling girls. "I can't help being brilliant."

They were interrupted by the sudden angry shouts of a Tivolian in the room opposite the Doctor's reflection. "Borderline," Kennedy sighed. "Lack of stability in interpersonal relationships, self-image, and emotion. Impulsivity, angry outbursts, intense fear of abandonment, recurrent suicidal gestures."

They walked passed a little Vinvocci clinging hopelessly to its mother. "Internalizing childhood disorders, like separation anxiety disorder, involve over-control. These children experience significant distress and are most often socially withdrawn," Clara explained. As they passed a different Vinvocci child who worked very distractedly on a coloring sheet, stopping every few seconds to ask his counselor another question, she furthered, "There's also externalizing childhood disorders, or undercontrolled, where they have behaviors that disturb people in their environments. ADHD is one of these disorders."

In another room, a baby Vinvocci toddled away from her mother, unresponsive to her caregiver's loving calls. "Autism disorder usually shows up in the first couple of months," Kennedy explained. "Children on the autism spectrum show severe deficiencies in communication and impaired social relationships. As babies, it shows up first as detachment to their caregivers."

They watched the adorable baby for a few moments before the Doctor led his small band of friends to Room 13B.

"What's in there?" Kennedy asked.

The Doctor inhaled sharply. "Shameless regard for, and violation of, other people's rights."

She gasped, "Antisocial personality disorder."

"Hello, sweetie," River song cooed from her hospital bed as the Doctor pushed open her door. "Long time, no see, eh?"

"River!" he gasped, rushing to the side of her bed. Taking his wife's hand in his own, the Doctor asked her, "What's wrong?"

She glanced down at her flower-patterned bed sheets. She just couldn't look at him, not when she felt like this. "Doctor, do I have a genetic predisposition towards alcoholism?"

'What? River? No…" he trailed off. "Why are you asking me this?" In the corner of the room, two girls and a Dalek stood quietly clustered together.

River hoped and prayed that she hadn't already been replaced.

"Did either of my parents abuse alcohol?" she asked. "Or drugs?"

"You grew up with them," he offered her a small smile.

"And you're right, they didn't then," River replied. She traced the edges of one of the flowers on the pink sheets with a red fingernail. "But what about… when they were going to divorce? What about my grandparents?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No, River, not that I know of."

"Alcoholism, or alcohol abuse, is a combination of both genetic and socio-cultural factors," the girl with shorter hair offered in a squeak from the corner of the room.

A single tear ran down River's face. Finally looking the Doctor in the eye, she told him, "I got caught, well, Melody Malone did. Grand theft spacecraft. I just needed a lift, and someone special wasn't getting my messages. I tried to get off on a plea of insanity, and I did, but…I couldn't get off for good. They locked me up in this Institution, and..."

"Insanity is only a legal term," the other girl, the one petting the Dalek, cut in gently. "It's not a psychiatric diagnosis, just a legal protection for defendant with severe psychological disorders." Her eyes held compassion in them. "They can be declared either mentally incompetent to stand trial or judged not guilty by reason of insanity."

Looking into her husband's eyes, River blinked back tears. "Doctor, I'm afraid."

The Doctor lowered himself onto the edge of her bed. He thought for a moment. "What kind of psychotherapy can they provide for you here?"

"The treatment of psychological disorders through psychological methods," the girl with the shorter hair murmured. "Such as analyzing problems, talking about possible solutions, and encouraging more adaptive ways of thinking and acting."

"Well, they have clinical social workers," River began. "They can provide therapy. They hold master's degrees," she scoffed. "I hold a PhD." She listed the other professionals who were supposedly there to help her. "The psychologists have advanced training in clinical or counseling psychology, and the psychiatrists are medical doctors who have completed special training in the treatment of mental disorders." She choked back a sob, squeezing his hands tightly. "But all I want is my Doctor."

He kissed her forehead, wrapping his arms around her. The girls inched closer to the end of the bed. "Hi, I'm Clara," the one with shorter hair offered her a small wave. "I just wanted to ask if your professionals used the eclectic approach. Because eclectic therapists employ multiple methods in their treatment plans, they're probably what's best for you."

River watched the way the Doctor watched the girls. He trusted them.

She trusted them.

"Can you tell me about these different approaches to psychotherapy, Clara?" she asked. "And, you, too-"

"Kennedy," the girl whom the Dalek followed around like a puppy finished for her. "Hi."

"I'm Dr. River Song," she replied. Laying her curly head against the Doctor's chest, she added, Dr. Doctor."

Kennedy smiled. "Well, the psychodynamic approach is centered around Freud's psychoanalysis, which is a method of psychotherapy that seeks to help clients gain insight into, and work through, their unconscious thoughts and emotions. Freud thought that all this unconscious stuff was the cause of psychological problems."

"I met old Sigmund once," the Doctor remarked. "What a twat!"

"Doctor," River chastised him. He frowned repentantly, and she kissed his cheek as a sign of forgiveness. "How does it work, Kennedy?"

"They use a lot of free association, which just has patients lie on a couch and report whatever thoughts, images and memories come to mind," Kennedy explained. "They also use transference, where they analyze the client's reactions to the therapist to help the client gain insight into her problems. However, in modern psychoanalysis, it's more short-term psychodynamic psychotherapy that aims to work more quickly than classical psychoanalysis. It also uses object-relations therapy, which focuses on the idea that we need human contact and support and believes that most of the clients' issues stem from problems in their relationships with their mothers or other early caregivers."

"Don't I know that all too well," River smirked. She blamed the Silence every single time that she was called a psychopath. Amy and Rory Pond were what saved her.

"There's also humanistic therapy," Clara suggested. "It emphasizes the ways in which people interpret the events in their lives. It views us as capable of consciously controlling our own actions and taking responsibility for our decisions." She watched the uncomfortable way that River shifted her weight. "Humanistic therapy operates on four assumptions: (1) treatment is an encounter between equals and not a "cure" given by an expert. (2) Clients will improve on their own, given the right conditions. (3) Ideal conditions in therapy can best be established when the client feels accepted and supported in the therapeutic relationship. And, (4) Clients must remain responsible for how they think and behave."

"Sounds too lovey-dovey for me," River smirked. "It's all that 'everyone is innately good' nonsense. Did he come up with it?"

"No," Clara laughed. "It mostly comes from Carl Rogers and his client-centered therapy, which is when the client decides what to talk about and when without the therapist's direction, judgment, or interpretation; and Gestalt therapy, which was developed by Frederick and Laura Perls."

"Don't forget the unconditional positive regard," Kennedy reminded them. " In client-centered therapy, the therapist's attitude must express caring for and acceptance of the client as a valued person."

"Oh, give me a break," River laughed good-naturedly. These little girls seemed to know everything, as if they were miniature versions of the Doctor himself.

"They also offer you empathy, where they attempt to appreciate the way the world looks from your point of view," Clara added. "And they have to be genuine about everything, too."

"That sounds very lovely," River sighed, "if you believe in fairytales."

Petting the Dalek's head again, Kennedy asked, "Don't you believe in the good in everyone? That's not a fairy tale."

"I only believe in one things, girls," River replied, "and that is this man." She squeezed the Doctor's hands. "Alright, Prince Charming, where's your big, blue steed? I've had enough of this place. Ripping off her hospital bracelet, River jumped to her feet. She pulled the Doctor up with her. He stared at her in astonishment. "What? You really think I called you here to listen to me cry?" She laughed. "Why else would I choose the one Institution in the universe with an infestation of the Voices? So my Prince Charming could come and watch me make my great escape!" She whipped a gun out of nowhere. "Stick close with me, girls, and don't get left behind." She linked her arm through the Doctor's. "To the Tardis, sweetie!"

They ran out of the Institution as if it was a scene in an action movie. River led the way, holding her gun out in front of her to clear the way. The Doctor held onto his wife with one arm and shepherded the girls with the other. Dalek-Sven rolled behind them, keeping a watchful eye for security behind Kennedy's back.

The ragtag band of time travellers made it to the Tardis in one piece. Throwing open the door with a snap of her fingers, River grabbed the controls, whooping loudly as they zapped out of that dimension. She landed perfectly just outside of Joseph residence hall, parking the Tardis cleverly behind the AC pipes.

"Thanks for the help, girls," River smiled. "We'll pick you up at the same time tomorrow."

The Tardis made its funny noises, disappearing back into the dreamworld from whence it came. Kennedy and Clara only stared on in awe, entertaining the possibility that they had both just fallen asleep studying psychology and had the same dream.


	2. Episode 2: The Man In A Bowtie

Kennedy was in the middle of speech class when Clara texted her this picture:

Kennedy slapped her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing aloud. She wasn't supposed to be on her phone, anyway. Still, she wrote back:

 _Well, you can't tell me now that he wasn't real._

Clara quickly responded:

 _It's a law from 1703. I'm convinced, too._

Stiffling down another giggle, Kennedy replied:

 _We've been finding evidence everywhere. And, you know, the big honkin' Dalek sitting in our dorm right now :)_

Clara texted back:

 _Point taken. The Doctor's real. How do we find him again?_

"You had better not be on your phone, Kennedy," the speech professor warned, narrowing his eyes at the freshman in the front row. "I am telling you everything you need to know for the final."

Sinking into her seat, Kennedy groaned. As if this professor ever told them anything that they needed to know for an exam. If he was as good as a professor as he thought he was, then why was she still ready to burst into tears before each and every speech that she had to give?

A voice in the back of Kennedy's head reminded her that she was supreme.

"Quick! Clara! What are the factors affecting a persuasive speech?" Kennedy exclaimed as soon as she opened the door to their shared dorm.

"Direct approach, articulate terms, what the person looks like," Clara began, firing balled-up socks at her roommate with each answer. "If the audience knows who you are, emotional appeal, bargaining down, and perception!" Holding up her arms to block the incoming return of the socks, Clara asked, "What is persuasion?"

"It's almost second nature," Kennedy declared, launching an armload of dirty socks at Clara. "We must learn to identify the factors and apply it to public speaking." She collapsed onto her bed.

"Bad day?" Clara sighed, hopping up beside her best friend. Kennedy nodded into the pillow, her ponytail swinging back and forth.

"DIIIID MYYY KENNEDY HAVE A BAD DAAAAAY?" Dalek-Sven's eyepiece waved up and down as he wheeled over to check on his rescuer and friend.

"I hate my speech professor!" Kennedy sighed.

"EXTERMINATE THE PROFESSOR!" Dalek-Sven declared.

"No, Sven, there will be no exterminating of the professor!" Clara admonished him in her best teacher voice. The Dalek calmed down immediately. It was no wonder that she was majoring in education. When Clara spoke, others listened.

Dalek-Sven floated up to the bed and landed on the other side of Kennedy. "DALEK-SVEN WILL HELP REVIIIIIISE!"

"Thank you, Sven," Kennedy smiled, sitting up to pet her Dalek on the top of his shiny round head. "You're a good friend." She kissed one of his ear-sirens. "I love you, cutie pie."

"WHAT IS LOOOOVE?" the Dalek screamed. "BABY DON'T HURT MEEEEE!"

The girls cracked up in laughter. Neither of them wanted to imagine life before this precious little pet joined them in their ten square feet of living space. Kennedy glanced at the crack in her wall. "When do you think the Doctor will be back?"

Clara shrugged. "He said same time tomorrow three weeks ago." She, too, glanced at the crack in the wall. "I don't think he's coming back."

"Why did we even go with him in the first place?" Kennedy laughed, shaking her head. Everyday she wished that she hadn't gone, because every day she couldn't stop thinking about him. "He's crazy."

"Emotional appeal," Clara suggested. "Just like in persuasive speaking. He used fear when he told us that the whole world was in danger because of that crack."

"And he used sympathy/empathy when he told me that I needed to be strong for him and overcome… well, the Voices," Kennedy added. She shuddered just thinking about the unknown forces that has seized her in the Institution.

"And it's too bad for him that annoyance isn't one of the emotional appeals that can be used in public speaking!" Clara giggled. "And for all that talking, he's not very good at using detailed examples to explain himself. No case studies, no examples, just… babble."

"That's true!" Kennedy laughed along. "Hey, let's use the Doctor to explain the targets of persuasive speaking!"

"Good idea!" Clara nodded.

"EXPLAIN! EXPLAIN! EXPLAAAAIIIIN!" Dalek-Sven inserted. Kennedy pet his head to quiet him.

"Change behavior," Clara began. "That's like when he used the psychic paper to tell us to run."

"Change mind," Kennedy replied. "Like when he changed our minds about himself from thinking he was crazy to thinking he was cool by showing us the Tardis."

"Or a combination of both of those," Clara continued. "Like how River persuaded us to both help her break out and decide that she didn't need to stay in the Institution."

"You have to set realistic goals, though," Kennedy smirked. "Unlike River did!"

"Yeah," Clara nodded. " Maybe she should've whipped out some statistics, tried out the bandwagon approach on us."

"But the bandwagon approach isn't the best of arguments!" Kennedy reminded her. "She could've bargained down, though. Started with a big goal and worked her way down to what she wanted."

"Door-in-the-face technique," Clara added.

"I'm ready for some ice-cream-in-the-face," Kennedy sighed. "You want to come with me?"

"DALEK-SVEN WILL COME WITH YOU!" the robot declared.

"Alright, alright, family road trip," Clara laughed. "Just let me grab my keys, Kennedy, and we'll go."

"Hello- ooh! Sweeties!" The unmistakable voice of River Song echoed behind the girls in the campus mini mart.

"River?!" Kennedy exclaimed, whirling around to face the Doctor's wife.

"Oh, hello, there, Kennedy!" River greeted her with a bright smile. "And Clara! What are you girls up to?"

"Well, certainly not expecting to find our favorite outerspace psychopath shopping for sweeties," Clara chuckled.

"We had to stop for road snacks," River sighed, rolling her eyes towards the tall, gangly man who was behaving as if he was, well, a kid in a candy store.

"Look, River! They've got Kit-Kats!" he declared in grand delight.

"Come here, sweetie," River smiled. "Come see what I found."

The Doctor galloped over to River. "OOh, I hope it's Jelly- Kennedy! Clara!" He enveloped both the girls into a giant hug. His grin stretched from ear to ear. "We were just on our way to Keplar-59. Brilliant star! You must join us."

"Wait, Doctor, is that persuasion or coercion?" Clara smirked. "Because you're going to have to persuade us, give us the choice. You _did_ leave us for three weeks with no word."

"You're coercing me," the Doctor replied, wrinkling his nose. "My choice to give you a choice is gone, isn't it?"

Clara nodded. "You better be careful not to take away our perception of choice, Doctor, or you're a bad public speaker. First characteristic of a persuasive speech- persuasion versus coercion"

The Doctor made a face at her over his handfuls of candy. "I'm a brilliant public speaker!"

"Persuasion is a process of influence," River inserted. "And you, my love, are rather impatient."

"But he's certainly got the call to action down!" Kennedy replied. "He'll do anything he can to influence our decision to come with you guys again. But his call to action will need to be clear."

"What is this, Interrogate the Doctor Day?" he pouted. "Come on, please, let's go!"

"All right, then," Kennedy shrugged. She laughed. "How are you going to pay for all that candy, Doctor?"

He looked at the girls with big, sad eyes.

"Oh, I've got it taken care of," River declared, snatching everyone's purchases away from them and carrying them up to the counter. With a bat of her eyelashes and a _swick_ of a debit card, River purchased the candy and led the way out and down the street to the Tardis.

"Where did that come from?" the Doctor wrinkled his non-existent eyebrows at his wife's debit card.

"I didn't nick it, if that's what you're thinking," she assured him. "I happen to have a real job where I make real money. I soniced my card so that it would work anywhere."

"Is does that?" the Doctor exclaimed.

River smiled. "Setting 5645."

She turned back to the girls as they climbed into the Tardis. "So you're studying persuasive speech?" They nodded. "I know quite a bit about persuasion myself. Tell me, then, about setting realistic goals in persuasive speech."

"Well, you want to stay away from topics that are already national debate," Clara began.

"Like the right that you don't have to take over another planet!" the Doctor commented as he pulled a lever on the control panel.

"No national campaign topics, either," Kennedy added.

"Like Humans are Friends, Not Food," the Doctor inserted. "I've got that one on a t-shirt."

"Choose something that you have a personal connection with," Clara continued.

The Doctor smiled. "Such as, why bowties are cool."

Kennedy rolled her eyes at him as she said, "Choose something that's easy to understand."

"Like why Daleks are bad!" the Doctor declared, pointing his sonic screwdriver at Dalek-Sven.

"Choose something the audience isn't aware of or isn't already doing now." Kennedy stepped between the Doctor and her Dalek. "Such as why not all Daleks are the same."

"And phrase it in the positive," Clara reminded them. "Such as, a good Dalek is possible."

"And there are your characteristics of a persuasive speech," River concluded. "Persuasion versus coercion, call to action, and setting realistic goals. Good job, girls."

"And now for something that's actually fun!" the Doctor declared, yanking down one last huge lever on the control panel. "Geronimo!"

"Groton, Connecticut."

Clara read the Tardis's location in a deeply disappointed tone.

"7 December 2015."

She cocked her head at the supposed time-traveller.

"EXPLAIN! EXPLAAAAIIN!" Dalek-Sven took the words right out of her mouth. Clara raised an eyebrow and put her hand on her hip.

"Well, we seem to have travelled up the coast," the Doctor began. "Because the Tardis does not want to take us into the future today."

"Way to reinforce what we already know, Doctor," River replied. "We're already on the side that seems to understand that. Now reinforce why I should hold value in that belief that the Tardis wants us here."

As River spoke, the date changed back almost thirty years.

"7 December 1981."

"We're in the past!" Clara exclaimed, bolting for the door.

"Wait, Clara!" the Doctor stood in front of the Tardis doors. "I'm going to actuate your behavior here and persuade you to get a coat before we go into Connecticut in the winter."

"You'll have to convince us first that we brought the winter coats that we left in our room, then," Clara replied, crossing her arms. "Mindset change, behavior change."

"There is a giant closet through that door right there," the Doctor pointed out.

The girls emerged from the Tardis in their best multicoloured jumpers and high waisted jeans. They'd even managed to tease their hair almost to the size of River's. "Groton, Connecticut, here we come!" Clara laughed, leading the way out the door.

"Hey, Clara, isn't this the place that you texted me about?" Kennedy inquired.

"Hey, Clara, let's go back inside!" the Doctor declared.

"No, wait- this is the place with the law about not trusting a man in a bow tie," Clara laughed. She stopped in front of the Doctor and crossed her arms. "Do you have anything to do with that law, Mister?"

"Of course I don't!" he exclaimed, his face repugnant.

"Of course he does," River corrected him, tossing a coat at the Doctor as she exited the Tardis.

"DALEK-SVEN LIKES HIS SCAAARRFF!" the little metal can of hatred was the last one to roll out of the blue box.

"Dalek-Sven is going to keep his voice down," Kennedy instructed.

The Dalek wiggled his eyestalk up and down as if he was nodding. "YES, KENNEDY!"

"So, what are we doing in the eighties?" River inquired, placing her hands on her hips as she raised her eyebrows at her husband.

The Doctor cracked his knuckles. "We are going to town hall."

They followed him without question.

The Doctor marched through the streets of Groton, past the river and the schools and the little shops and all the way to the building from which the mayor governed. As he walked, people in the street stop and stared. They gasped. They gawked. They whispered. They cried out. They screamed.

River grabbed her husband's arm right before he could open the door of the town hall. "What did you do, Doctor?" she demanded.

He took a deep breath. He sighed, "It's not what I _did_ do. It's what they wouldn't _let me do._ "

"Uh-huh." River let him go, but the look on her face said that she would be keeping an eye on him.

Pushing open the doors, the Doctor swaggered through the halls of town hall with his head held high. He nodded to unfamiliar people and waved to strange faces. Everyone who saw him stopped and stared.

"He's real!" a secretary gasped.

The Doctor strode all the way to the mayor's office. He shoved open the door and gave a chin-up gesture to the little old man at the desk.

The mayor dropped his paperwork.

"It's _you_ ," the mayor gasped. "The Man in a Bowtie!"

"Get up," the Doctor declared. "That desk is mine. I am the mayor of Groton."

"No, you are not!" the old man declared, pointing to the sign on his desk that read _Mayor Filmore._ "Now get out of here this instance!"

"I am the mayor of this town, just as I have been since 1703!" the Doctor fought back. "Check your records, Filmore!"

"That's quite a question of fact," Clara whispered to Kennedy. "He's attempting to convince his audience that a certain piece of factual information is true."

"No, Doctor, we are better off without you here!" Mayor Filmore spat. "This town is in enough trouble without you here to cause more!"

"Question of value," Kennedy whispered back. "The mayor's attempting to convince us that one thing is better than another."

"Oh, just get out of your chair and _let me be the mayor_!" the Doctor's bald little eyebrows shot far above his head in frustration. "And, yes, Clara, that is a question of policy because I am attempting to move him to action!"

Clara cleared her throat. "Doctor, perhaps you should try using Monroe's Motivated Sequence, especially since you're going for an actuation speech."

"Brilliant idea, Clara!" The Doctor banged his hand against the table. "Then I demand a Town Council meeting. Give me five minutes to persuade you, Filmore, and then, you will let me save this town."

"Save this town from what?" River asked dangerously.

"From absolutely nothing," Mayor Filmore answered. Finally, he told the Doctor, "Fine. You, the dead man walking- you should be back in history where you belong."

"So should whatever's in those chambers, Filmore," the Doctor seethed.

The mayor threw his hands up in exasperation. "Fine, Doctor, you have five minutes."

"That's perfect," Clara nodded. "Because Monroe's Motivated Sequence has got five steps."

The Doctor and his friends stood at the head of the round table in the town hall's small conference room. Half a dozen greying town officials sat in a circle watching him, waiting. This was a man of myths, the story that their parents who'd lived in Groton long before told their children at bedtime.

"Clara," the Doctor whispered unnecessarily loudly. "What's first?"

"Attention," Clara told him. "You need to get the attention of the audience. Be creative."

The Doctor nodded.

"Hello, town hall officials of Groton, Connecticut!" the Doctor exclaimed, jumping up onto the table. He spread his arms about in a grandiose manner. "I am the Doctor, yes, I am that Doctor! I am wearing a bowtie, and yes, I look cool!" He straightened his bowtie with a cheeky smile.

He looked back to Clara, who nodded. "Now, need!" she said. "You need to tell them that there's a problem, and that your solution is the answer. Articulate this need. Use visuals!"

The Doctor pointed to her and then to the table that he stood on. "This is a circle. You know a lot about circles in Groton, don't you? Specifically stone circles." The people around the table nodded. "Specifically what came out of those stone circles in 1703."

He pulled his sonic screwdriver from his coat pocket and zapped the projector at the other end of the room. Immediately, an old slide of an 18th century painting projected onto the wall. In the painting, eleven skeletons danced around a double circle of stones.

"Specifically what that stone circle does to those you love when they get too close."

With another zap of the screwdriver, the projector turned off. The Doctor jumped and landed sitting down, his long legs dangling off the side of the table. "Ever since your ancestors found that stone circle that you now call the Gungywamp Archeological Site, the people of this town have been going mad seeing those skeletons."

The council members looked away in horror.

"And the only way to fix it is to let me do it this time!" the Doctor declared. "Don't be silly like your great great great great great great grandparents and pretend that I am lying this time because _I am not_!" The Doctor slammed his hands against the table. "Let me help you! I know how to fix stuff! I'm clever!"

"Now, Satisfaction!" Clara cut in. "Five steps to satisfy the need. One- Reveal the action that you want then to perform in a clear and concise manner,"

"Let me be your mayor!" the Doctor declared.

"Two, Explain the details of what you want them to do."

"Tell Filmore that I am your mayor, bowtie or not," the Doctor continued. "Then, let me and my team have a look at the stone circles. We can find the problem and keep your people's skeletons from dancing on that stone circle."

"Third, explain how the action you want them to do solves the problem that you outlined in the need step. Use strong reasoning and factual support."

"I have, unbeknownst to you, saved your world countless times," the Doctor sighed. "I've got an archeologist with me- Professor River Song. And two brilliant students!"

"AND DALEK-SVEN!"

"Yes, and Dalek-Sven," the Doctor made a face of distaste. "Anyhow, I know what those rings are- they are not remnants of colonial mills or Native American structures. Those stone chambers that you won't go into- clever move. I tried to tell your people in 1703 that that's where the Osseus are keeping your dead!"

"Keeping the dead?" Kennedy exclaimed.

"Yes, the dead," the Doctor nodded. "And, like you, I want them to rest in peace."

"Fourth, evidence that the solution has worked in real life," Clara interjected.

"President Nixon!" the Doctor declared. "Ever heard of the Silence?"

The council members reluctantly shook their heads.

"You're welcome. Clara, fifth part?"

"Meet imagined objections," Clara replied. "Refute potential arguments."

"The man in a bowtie," the Doctor laughed. "The man that your parents warned you not to trust is here telling you that he can solve that little problem that your quiet little town keeps hidden from the rest of the world. Your mayor says that I'm not the mayor, but I say that your dead don't stay dead. Now you tell me who's wrong,"

"Step Four, Visualization!" Clara declared. "Like they use in sports to help the mind lead the body. Show the audience that the world will be a better place if they perform your action."

"Oh, everything's better once you let the Doctor fix it!" he laughed. "Imagine a Groton where the skeletons stay in the ground. That's it. That's why I need you to trust me as your mayor. I did win the elections in 1703. Technically, I never left office. Just let me do my job."

"And, final step. Action- your call to action. Convince your audience to begin the action," Clara said.

"I'm the Doctor, I'm clever, now do as I say," he stated simply. "Let me do my job."

He hopped down from the table.

The council only stared at him blankly.

"Maybe he should've done an audience analysis first," Kennedy whispered to Clara. "Demographic questions to build a composite of his audience, questions about their issues/attitudes/behaviors to determine where they stood on the issue of, well, him."

Clara laughed. "I can see their minds churning over his fallacies now. There's all kinds of errors in his reasonings."

"There was a bit of ad hominem against our ancestors," one of the council women spoke up. "You kind of attacked them instead of their reasoning, didn't you? When you called them silly?"

"They called me a liar!" the Doctor pouted. "And your ancestors were coerced into the bandwagon effect, like lemmings. They became convinced that everyone stood against me, and that nothing was happening with the skeletons. But you know the truth!"

"Aren't you using appeal to authority, though?" a man with salt-and-pepper hair inserted. He gestured towards River. "Using that pretty little archeologist to get us to go along with what you're saying? Celebrity endorsements aren't a reason to support you."

River took a deep breath and drew her gun. Pointing the barrel at the man, she dared, "Call me pretty again, and-"

"Thank you, River, that's enough violence for one day," the Doctor cut in, putting an arm around her shoulders and gently guiding the gun back to her holster. "Don't you dare make hasty generalizations about me, sir," River growled at the man, bullets ready to shoot from her eyes even if she didn't have her gun. "You rushed to that argument without proper facts. I am no celebrity, and I am certainly no… eye candy! I am more highly educated than your left pinkie toe, and you will do well to respect me." Tossing her hair behind her, she added, "The fact that I put the _hot_ in psychotic is completely unrelated."

The Doctor smiled at her.

"And the only arguments against him are pretty circular," Clara cut in. "The law says not to trust him because he's wearing a bowtie. The law says not to trust a man wearing a bowtie because it's bound to be him. He's your mayor, but he can't help. He can help, but he's not your mayor."

"And, mentioning the bowtie, false cause," Kennedy added. "You're attributing the wrong cause to the problem you're describing. It isn't the bowtie that makes you not trust him. It's the fact that he's right."

Silence blanketed the room.

Clara cleared her throat. "All in favor of accepting the Doctor as mayor of Groton and his services, please say aye."

Half a dozen _ayes_ echoed around the table.

In the doorway, Filmore swore.

"Excuse me, Miss?" A young man wearing a denim jacket stopped Kennedy outside of the conference room. "You came here with the man in a bowtie, didn't you?" Kennedy nodded. "Awesome!" he beamed. "Mind if I get a quick interview?"

"Um, I, uh… I really don't have anything important to say," Kennedy shrugged. On the inside, however, she had a million questions- were time travellers even allowed to talk to the media?

"Oh, sure you do!" the young man smiled. "Surely a woman as bodacious as yourself is equally as brilliant. You must be pretty clever to get into town hall like that in the first place."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Kennedy smiled shyly. She knew herself to be pretty smart, but beautiful? Never. "Besides, it wouldn't be right. I'm a journalist, too. At least, I'm studying to be one."

"Me, too, actually!" the young man smiled, walking with Kennedy as she followed the Doctor down the hall. They paused outside of the mayor's office. "I'm doing my internship for _The Day_ , and so I got sent out here to Groton, my hometown, as their rep at town hall." He stuck out his hand for a shake. "I'm Ollie, by the way."

"Kennedy," she replied, flustered as she shook his hand. "I'm not from around here. I'm travelling with the Doctor."

"Well, Kennedy, this Doctor story is going to be pretty huge, and I could use an assistant," Ollie smiled. "If you're willing to help."

"Oh, um, sure!" Kennedy smiled. This was it- her first chance to get some experience out in the field. Even if it was in 1981.

"Cool beans," Ollie nodded.

"EXACTLY WHAT ARE YOUR INTENTIIOOOOONSS?" Dalek-Sven screamed behind Ollie.

The young journalist jumped in fright. "What is that thing?!" he exclaimed.

"That's my pet Dalek, Sven," Kennedy smiled. "Now, Sven, behave, please."

"DALEK-SVEN WILL PROTECT KENNEDY!" he declared. "OLLIE WILL BE EXTER-"

"Shush, you!" Clara declared, sticking her head out of the mayor's office. She smiled at Kennedy. "Continue." She turned to Ollie. "And she would love to be your assistant while we're here."

They followed Clara into the office, where the Doctor reclined with his feet atop the desk. "So, Ollie, what are the news values here?" Kennedy smirked.

"News values?" Clara inquired.

"They're how events are separated according to what's news and what isn't," Kennedy explained. "They're important because not all events in the world can be covered by the media."

"The news values help writers decide how to arrange a story," Ollie added. "You know, deciding what's important enough to be considered _news_."

"Makes sense," Clara nodded.

Ollie whipped out a notebook and pen. "Kennedy, could you please take notes while I interview the Doctor?"

"Boo!" the Doctor exclaimed. "What if I don't want to be interviewed? When is this going into print?"

"Tomorrow's post, probably," Ollie replied. "That way, it has timeliness- the event is recent. Also, it's got proximity because it's close to _The Day_ readers' area."

"Why me, though?" the Doctor frowned.

"Because you love to talk," Kennedy answered. "And because you have prominence- you're famous here, Doctor."

"All right," the Doctor smiled, folding his arms behind his head. "Interview away."

"What brings you back to Groton after almost four hundred years?" Ollie asked, pressing a button on a tape recorder.

"You don't waste anytime, do you?" the Doctor laughed. "And neither do I! I was here yesterday."

"Yesterday!" River exclaimed.

The Doctor shrugged. "You were asleep."

River slapped him.

Ollie cleared his throat. "Who have you brought with you this time?"

The Doctor smiled at each of his friends in turn. "Professor River Song, who is my wife; Kennedy Humphries, who will not be your wife; and Clara Oswald, who will also not be your wife."

"AND DALEK-SVEN!" the alien robot declared. "DO NOT FORGET DALEK-SVEN!"

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "And Dalek-Sven."

"DALEK-SVEN IS NO ONE'S WIIIIIFE!"

Ollie took a step away from Kennedy and the Dalek. "You believe in the stories about the dancing skeletons, I assume."

"You're a journalist, Ollie, you should never assume!" the Doctor frowned. "You need to back up your facts! And of course I believe in them; they aren't stories!"

"What do you think they are?" Ollie asked meekly. "The dancing skeletons?"

"They're called the Osseus," the Doctor sighed. "And they're not really skeletons. They're just inhabiting them because they're trapped in those tunnels, and the stone circles are the only way out."

"What are you going to do about the Osseus?"

"We are going to help them get out and get back to their home," the Doctor replied.

"Impact," Kennedy murmured. "This event is going to affect a lot of people- er, aliens."

"Aliens?" Ollie exclaimed.

"Oi! Aliens are people, too!" the Doctor scowled.

"Sorry," Kennedy offered. "But, Ollie, won't this story have magnitude, too? It's going to involve a lot of people."

"Well, not many living people, actually," the Doctor cut in. "Just five. And a Dalek."

"Aliens are people, too," Kennedy reminded him.

"Six, then," the Doctor corrected himself.

"Who's the sixth, sir?" Ollie asked.

"Why, you, of course!" the Doctor smiled. "We'll need bait."

"Bait?!" Ollie exclaimed. However, he was too late, because he was already intrigued, because these people were interesting, and Kennedy was interesting, and they were already leaving, and he was following them, and he was a part of this now.

He was finally living the journalist's secret dream- he was part of something bigger at last.

"What's the currency on a story like this, Ollie?" Kennedy inquired as the group trotted through the woods to the archeological site. "Do people in Groton see dancing skeletons often?"

Ollie shook his head. "Not too often, not lately. At least, not enough to prove it."

"Will it cause conflict?" she asked. "A heated fight, maybe?"

Ollie shrugged. "The only real fight will be over letting him back into town."

"What's so wrong about the Doctor, anyway?" she shook her head. "He's a great guy. Why won't you guys trust him?"

"He's just a folktale," Ollie sighed. "The man in a bowtie is the story that we all grew up with as kids. When he came to town, people started losing their minds, and they started seeing skeletons dancing in the stone circles in the forest. When he got elected mayor, it only got worse."

"And did it get better when he left?" Kennedy inquired.

Ollie shook his head.

"What fascinates you so much about his story?" she pressed.

"I found an article about him in a really old copy of a colonial paper that the library had in its basement," Ollie began. He didn't tell this story to many people, but for some reason, he felt that he could trust Kennedy. The Doctor seemed to trust her, after all. "Nobody else knows this, but that was the article that made me want to be a journalist. It was such a novelty- so bizarre and unusual that no one else could have ever captured such a story." He couldn't help but laugh at himself. "And that's exactly what I set out to do."

"I guess you could say that the article held emotional impact," Kennedy smiled sweetly. "Even if it wasn't about puppies, kittens, or kids."

"Yeah," Ollie laughed. "And hey, I didn't think I was the one being interviewed here."

"Well, if you were," she laughed, "I would put the story about the Doctor article first in my article on you."

"The first thing, the lead, the top of the inverted pyramid," Ollie smiled. "That's where the most important information goes."

"Yep," Kennedy nodded. "Then everything else in descending order of importance."

"What made you decide to become a journalist?" he asked. Even though it was so off topic from his mission, Ollie sincerely wanted to know.

"The media are essential components of our lives," Kennedy shrugged. "I guess I wanted to be a part of something bigger."

"Secret of the Media One," Ollie smiled. "Nice."

"Who's telling secrets back there?" the Doctor called over his shoulder. He wrinkled his nose when he saw the journalism students shyly glancing away from each other. "Oi! Kennedy! No more talking to the media."

"Secret of the Media Two, Doctor," Kennedy giggled. "There are no mainstream media."

"What is that supposed to mean?" the Doctor replied.

"What is 'the media' supposed to mean?" Kennedy retaliated. "The 'old media,' such as newspaper and TV? What makes them more mainstream than our alternative media? Talk radio, blogs, Twitter…"

"Twitter?" Ollie looked confused.

"Nevermind it," Kennedy smirked. "You'll understand when you're older."

He shook his head at her. Then, stepping back into his reporter's shoes, Ollie inquired, "But, Doctor, what really does bring you back to Groton after 400 years? Most people have forgotten about you by now."

"I told them that I would be back when they needed me," the Doctor answered. "And maybe this time, they'll believe me!"

"Some people do still believe in you, you know," Ollie offered.

"Of course they do!" the Doctor beamed. "I'm the Doctor! Everyone will believe me. Just give it time."

"Secret of the Media Three," Kennedy shrugged. "Everything from the margin moves to the center."

"Also, Secret Four. Everything that happened in the past will happen again. He's back to supposedly fix the skeletons, just like in 1703," Ollie added. "But seriously, what is Twitter?"

"Um, it's a new type of media," Kennedy began carefully. "Or, it will be, one day. It's kind of like everyone being a reporter, only they can write just a sentence at a time."

"Sounds terrifying," Ollie muttered.

"Secret Five," Kennedy nodded. "New media are always scary."

"So, what do people say about me, anyway?" the Doctor interjected. "Do the people of Groton… like me?"

"Some of them do," Ollie answered. "The Bow Tie Circle, mostly."

"The Bow Tie Circle?" the Doctor smiled. "I quite like the sound of that. Tell me, what do they say about me in this Bow Tie Circle?"

"Well, the Bow Tie Circle does a bit of campaigning trying to convince people that the skeletons are real, and that you're coming back," Ollie explained. "I considered writing a column for them once, but, Secret Six- activism and analysis aren't the same thing. I couldn't separate my personal beliefs from my critiques of their mission."

"That's the media for you," the Doctor sighed. "Never can stand firmly on just one side of any issue, can they?"

"Secret Seven- there is no 'they'," Kennedy replied. "You can't categorize all of the media as a whole like that, Doctor, because it doesn't exist that way. There are so many different facets of the media that it's virtually impossible to make generalizations that accurately encompass all of them."

"Journalists," the Doctor made a face. "Always-"

"Searching for the truth," Kennedy finished for him. "The good ones, anyway."

The Doctor smiled at her.

"So, River, how are you doing?" Clara inquired, making conversation as they traipsed through the woods. "Since the… you know?"

"They prescribed me with neuroleptics," River laughed. "Antipsychotics. They're drugs that relieve the symptoms of schizophrenia or other severe forms of psychological disorder. Safe to say, I never take them."

"What kind were they?" Clara asked. "I mean, how has biological treatment for psychological disorders changed in so many years?"

"Unfortunately, it hasn't changed much," River shrugged. "I can't remember exactly what they were. It was either phenothiazines like Thorazne or a haloperidol like Haldol."

"My aunt had to take neuroleptics," Ollie said. "But like 1 in 4 of those who do, she developed tardive dyskinesia. It's an irreversible muscle disorder that causes uncontrollable, repetitive actions. She couldn't help twitching her face, flailing her limbs, or thrusting her tongue. It was awful."

"Back when I was in prison, they made me take benzodiazepines- Librium, before they switched me to Valium," River replied. "It's a tranquilizer, which reduces the mental and physical tension and the symptoms of anxiety" She reached for the Doctor's hand. "It was after we got together. You see, he would come in his TARDIS to sneak me out at night, and so I spent my days a little bit too excited. They got nervous and prescribed me with the anxiolytics- the anti-anxiety drugs."

The Doctor squeezed her hand. Then, he chuckled "Once, when I was younger, I had a few days when I just would not come out of my TARDIS. Granted, I had just almost been turned into a human forever, and it was good to be back. However, my friend Martha, who was travelling with me at the time, was a medical student. She tried to prescribe me with Xanax, a benzodiazepine, because she thought that I had agoraphobia all of a sudden. When I freaked out about it, she told me that I might need the Xanax for panic disorder instead."

"You're not agoraphobic," River replied, "Just a madman with a blue box."

The Doctor smiled.

"Stop," the Doctor declared all of a sudden. "I remember this place."

"Doctor, this is a random tree in the woods," River told him, one hand on her hip. "How could you possibly remember it?"

"Encoding," he replied matter-of-a-factly. "The process of putting information into a form that my memory system can accept and use. I'm a Time Lord. My memory is quite vast.I never forget."

"How do you possibly store every single image in your mind?" Clara exclaimed.

"Do you recall the 1960 experiments of George Sperling?" the Doctor inquired.

Clara nodded. "He had the three rows of letters that he flashed for barely a fraction of a second. His participants, through free recall, could recall four or five of them. Sperling still believed that they held the image of all nine letters in their memories but just had trouble retrieving it. If they were prompted to recall just a certain row, they had much better accuracy. He called it iconic memory."

"Iconic memory, the storage of images, is just one of the ways that we use our sensory registers," the Doctor continued. "Sensory registers are the memory systems that briefly hold incoming information. There's one for each of the five senses."

"So, echoic storage register would be auditory," Clara replied.

"You're exactly right!" the Doctor smiled, booping Clara on the nose endearingly. "Yes, so, back to this tree- the human mind can encode seven bits of information in its short term memory at a time, give or take two. It holds this information for about eighteen seconds. However, a Time Lord has no short term memory. Everything that goes into my mind stays forever."

"So, everything is encoded into your long term memory, then?" Clara clarified. "And it's limitless?"

The Doctor nodded. "And so might be yours."

"But human long term memory is subject to distortion," she added. "And failure of encoding. Sometimes we misunderstand. Sometimes we see something wrong. Sometimes we miss something completely."

"Like the Silence,' River murmured.

"Humans are remarkable when it comes to remembering lists, too," the Doctor rattled on. "However, with the serial position effect, you are more likely to remember what's near the top of the list and what's near the bottom than anything in the middle of the list." He added, "And, River, something else about the Silence- the humans use automatic processing to remember what to do. Muscle memory. It's different than before the moon landing, when we had to use effortful processing to try to remember if we'd seen them or not."

"Excuse me, but _what_?" Ollie exclaimed. "Time Lord? Silence? And what has this all got to do with the moon landing?"

"You wouldn't understand." The Doctor made a face. "It's all… wibbly wobbly, timey wimey stuff."

"So, Doctor, how did you remember the random tree in the woods?" Clara cut in.

"Rehearsal," the Doctor answered. "I played its location over and over in my mind because-" He stepped behind the tree, nudged a rock with his foot, and pulled aside the dead bark, revealing a hollow inside that opened up to a dark cavern below. "-this is where the Osseus tunnels begin." He held out his sonic screwdriver, bright green light shining the way. "Follow me. And don't run off! That means you, Kennedy!"

"Crap…" Kennedy muttered in the darkness. "I just remembered that I have a psychology test next week. Well, the week after the day we came from. Heh. I just _recalled_ that-I retrieved it from memory without much help. At least my test is multiple choice so that I can use _recognition_ instead- retrieval aided by clues."

"Oh, shh! Wait! Look at that!" Clara pointed at the wall of the cavern. They watched in awe as a burst of blue light sparked along the wall until it hit a travelling red spark, and the two together lit up a purple light. "It looks like long-term potentiation!" she exclaimed. "You know, the memory-forming synapse change that occurs when new experiences change the operation of existing synapses in the brain!"

"It reminds me of when I was studying neurophysiology in Apylsia," the Doctor said in quiet, wondrous tones. "They're a mollusk with an incredibly simple nervous system. They're often used to study learning and memory for humans."

"So, it looks like a hippocampus?" Kennedy asked. "You know, the forebrain structure associated with the formation of new memories?"

"Doctor…" Clara took a deep breath. "Are we inside a brain?"

"Here's my theory," the Doctor began, leading them farther down the cavern on tiptoe. "The Osseus do not possess physical bodies, which is why they inhabit skeletons- which humans have an abundance of. Sorry."

"The graveyard is far from here," Ollie cut in. "And no one who disappeared went anywhere near the forest."

The Doctor thought for a moment. "Ollie, has anyone ever directly seen the dancing skeletons?"

"A lot of people have memories of it," Ollie shrugged.

"And are these explicit memories?" the Doctor furthered. "Do people have to deliberately try to remember seeing them?"

Ollie shook his head. "Now that I think about it, no. Not really. This is a subject that I wrote a lot of stories on for my high school paper. Everytime that I interviewed someone, their recollection was more unintentional, as if my telling them a description of what they might have seen conjured up their memories."

"Almost as if they were implicit memories," Clara mused. "The unintentional recollection and influence of prior experiences."

"Gosh, Clara, how do you possible remember all of this stuff?" Kennedy laughed.

"Chunking," Clara smiled. "I break it all up into meaningful groups. Or mnemonic devices. I like acronyms. And I use distributed practice. I break my studying up rather than cramming all at once."

"So, the stories of the dancing skeletons- they're merely visual descriptions. People only talk about what they saw," the Doctor continued his thought process.

Ollie nodded. "As if they were using only selective attention those nights- focusing only on one part of the stimulus field."

"But all those people, and they only focused on one thing that they saw…." The Doctor began to pace. "Surely someone would have remembered the cold. Or that they were hungry. Or tired. Or that they heard something. Drums?"

Ollie shook his head. "They all told the same story- I went into the forrest, and I saw eleven skeletons dancing on the stone circle."

"Eleven?" the Doctor repeated. "Every one of them?"

Ollie nodded. "Every time. It's always eleven. Oh, and one always has a missing foot."

"Then this is not state-dependent memory, which is helped by similarities or differences in a person's internal state during learning versus recall," the Doctor muttered. "Because everyone's story is exactly the same."

"That's scarily accurate to be eye witness testimony," Kennedy commented.

"And when someone didn't mention the missing foot or the eleven skeletons, but you told them that someone else said they saw it, they suddenly remembered it too, right?" the Doctor inquired.

"Yeah, actually," Ollie answered. "I tested it out once. A man at the pier told me that he'd seen eleven skeletons. But when I lied and said that his competitor had seen twelve when I followed up with this guy, his memories suddenly changed."

"Misinformation effect," Clara explained. "Suggestive words, mentioned objects- those kinds of things can distort and even change memories."

Ollie smiled. "Wow, Clara, you really are amazing at explaining-"

"EXPLAIN!" Dalek-Sven screamed. "EXPLAAAIIIN!"

"Shhh!" Kennedy clapped her hands over his robot-face, but still the Dalek screamed. The walls of the cavern sparked to life with brilliant synapses, energy pulsating throughout the stone as if it was alive.

"His disturbance stimulated the hive mind," the Doctor murmured.

"I SAW THE SKELETONS DAAAAANCE!"

"Sven, baby, no, you didn't," Kennedy assured her pet, stroking his cold, metal head. "You've never been here before."

"I SAW ELEVEN SKELETONS DAAAANCE!"

"No, Sven. You've never been to Groton before. You couldn't have, my love."

"ONE SKELETON HAD A MISSING FOOOOT! I SAW THE SKELETONS DANCE ON THE CIRCLE!"

"Implanted memories!" the Doctor exclaimed. "When he disturbed the Osseus hive mind, it implanted a false memory into his head."

"Like Elizabeth Loftus did in the 1990s," Clara began. "She implanted false memories of being lost in the mall as a child into participants' heads to see if they could recall them later. And they did, as if they were real memories."

"Excuse me, the 1990s haven't happened yet," Ollie gasped. He glanced to Kennedy. "Have they?"

"Okay, let me clear this up for you," River sighed. "Your girlfriend here is a time traveller."

"She's not his girlfriend!" the Doctor exclaimed at the same time that Kennedy exclaimed the same in defence of herself.

"But you are a time traveller?" Ollie looked at her with wide eyes.

Kennedy nodded.

"And possibly in control of an unknown evil force we know only as the Voices," the Doctor chimed in.

"Not possibly," Kennedy stated. "I am. And they're not evil. Everything has the potential to be evil when it's not properly contained. Even you, Doctor. It's why we have to have laws."

The Doctor took a deep breath. He wondered what these Voices were doing inside of her fragile mind. She was so very young, and so very human….

"Ollie, do children play in this forrest?" River asked, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen.

"Yeah, kids who live in the neighborhood near here like to dare each other to go look for the skeletons," Ollie answered.

"And their accounts are still all exactly the same?" River furthered.

Ollie nodded. "I kept a record, actually, of everyone that I interviewed. Everyone that would talk to me, I recorded and wrote down everything that they said to me about the skeletons. It was a big project."

"Sounds like an obsession," Clara commented.

Ollie shrugged. "Maybe it is."

"Children, though- they can't give eyewitness accounts that are so clear," Clara expounded on River's train of thought. "When they're just kids, they can't possibly encode that kind of trauma that clearly."

"And has anyone ever tried to forget about the skeletons?" the Doctor asked. "Motivated forgetting, where they willfully suppress information so that it is no longer accessible on a later memory test?"

"Quite a few of the people that I talked to tried to forget it, actually," Ollie replied. "They didn't want to believe that it had really happened. But they always said that no matter how hard they tried, they never could forget seeing the dancing skeletons."

"So you've got a town full of people who all share the same memory that's implanted when they disturb the hive mind, which-" the Doctor licked his finger and stuck it in the air- "seems to reach as far underground as Groton is wide."

"Why would it do a thing like that?" Clara wondered.

"Defense," the Doctor decided. "What's the best way to protect what's important to you?"

"Keep other people away from it," River finished for her husband.

The Doctor froze for a moment, then, very quietly, he said- "Follow me as silently as you possibly can. That means you, Dalek-Sven."

"Where are we going now?" Kennedy asked.

"Into the mind of the beast," the Doctor whispered. "The stone circle."

"So, we are inside of a mind," the Doctor began as they traipsed silently down sparkling cavern halls. "And what is the most important function of the mind?"

"To think," Clara answered readily. "The manipulation of mental representations."

"Humans think mainly in natural concepts," the Doctor continued. "These are concepts that have no fixed set of defining features but instead share a set of characteristic features. So, members of these concepts don't need to have all of the characteristics the concept contains."

"For example, the Doctor has a natural concept of who his friends are," River added. "This is a natural concept that we all fit into, even though not everyone here is exactly the same. We differ in gender, age, how we met the Doctor, education level, percentage of humanness…" She cast a brief glance at Kennedy and Sven. "But we're all friends of the Doctor because we fit at least some of the concept's features, such as like to travel with the Doctor, clever, creative, compassionate, adventurous, brave…" She smiled at the Doctor. "And then there are prototypes. A prototype is a member of a natural concept that possesses all or most of its characteristic features. I am the prototype of a friend of the Doctor."

"But the Osseus hive mind thinks in formal concepts," the Doctor picked up where she left off. "Its concepts can be clearly defined by a set of rules or properties. For example, it's formal concept of _threat_ is anything that disturbs the hive mind. If it has the property of disturbing the hive mind, whether it's being too loud, somehow crossing it, or what have you- the hive mind projects the memory of the dancing skeletons into the person's mind to warn them to stay away."

"But how would the hive mind thing define a disturbance?" Kennedy asked.

"It must have a schema about what constitutes a disturbance," the Doctor answered. "Generalizations it's made about the category of disturbances."

"And then, implanting the memory of the dancing skeletons must be a script," Clara continued. "It has a mental representation of the familiar sequence of activities."

"So, it has a concept for disturbances and a script of what to do… the connection between the concept of 'disturbance' and the concept of 'defense' must be linked with a proposition, a mental representation that expresses the relationship between concepts," Kennedy added. "It links them into the script."

"All in the name of protecting whatever's underneath than stone circle," Clara concluded. "All right. So, next question is, how do we find where the stone circle is?"

"Cognitive map," River answered. "If this is a mind, then surely it's got a mental model that represents familiar parts of the environment. There's nothing more familiar than what you hold most secretly within you." She reached a hand towards the wall. "Now, if we could just plug in-"

"No!" the Doctor exclaimed, leaping between his wife and the wall. "Let me!" He stuck hand against one of the synapses on the wall without a second thought. "EEEEEEOOOOOOWWWEEEEE!"

The Doctor jumped back from the wall, shaking the pain from his fingers. "Owie!" he exclaimed. "Ow ow ow!"

"Why would you do something so stupid?" River demanded. "You're a Time Lord, for goodness sake. You can't combine one powerful mind with another and expect there not to be sparks. Now what did you see?"

"Pain," he whimpered. "It hurt." He took a deep breath. "No one is going to touch that wall again."

"Then how are we supposed to find where we need to go?" River tested him.

"The Voices," Kennedy answered matter-of-a-factly. "We'll do it intuitively."

"Absolutely not!" the Doctor exclaimed.

Kennedy merely rolled her eyes at him. "I'm in college now, Doctor. I don't need an adult to tell me what I can and can't do."

River laughed. "I wonder if that's what I sound like to Mum and Dad."

"Anyhow, the least I can do is try, right?" And without a moment's hesitation, Kennedy closed her eyes, grabbed ahold of the Doctor's hand, and tuned in.

 _Speak to me again. Please tell me you're still there._

 _Here. We are here, Queen._

 _Go into the Osseus hive mind. Take control. Give me control. I want control. Control. Osseus hive mind. Control._

 _Inmanu summu_

 _English. Translate to English. Speak in English. You will speak in English. You will be under my control and my control alone._

 _Legion...under control…._

 _Tell me where to find the stone circle._

 _Follow...intuition...link_

Kennedy gasped for air as she forced open her eyes.

"I did it!" she exclaimed. There was something else in her mind now, something new in the Voices. "I… I think I made a connection. An intuitive link. Follow me!"

They fell in line behind her as if they were soldiers going into battle.

"You made a link with the hive mind?" Ollie asked with awe. Kennedy nodded. "What's it like on the inside? What's it thinking?"

Kennedy concentrated for a moment before answering. "It's all algorithms. Everything is a systematic procedure that can't fail to produce a correct solution to the problem."

"Does it use heuristics?" Clara inquired, ever-inquisitive as she was. "Any cool outer space mental shortcuts or rules of thumb?"

"It seems to assess possible disturbances with the anchoring heuristic," Kennedy replied. "It just adds new information to the already existing information that it has to reach a judgment. Basically, it assumes something is a threat based off of the probabilities that it already has in place. The tiniest disturbance, and it jumps to conclusions.

"I also see the representative heuristic in assessing disturbances. It judges whether something falls into the disturbance class based off of its similarity to other members of the class. If it looks like a threat and smells like a threat, then it's a threat."

"And do you know why it uses the implanted memories as its source of defense?" River asked.

"I think it's the availability heuristic," Kennedy answered. "Its judgments are based on the information that is most easily brought to mind. The simplest solution is to give them a fearsome warning that stays with them forever."

"Functional fixedness," Clara mused. "It thinks about familiar objects in familiar ways. Disturbances are given the memory because disturbances have always been given the memory."

"Stop being clever," the Doctor pouted. "I'm the clever one."

"Hush, sweetie, brilliant, beautiful minds at work," River laughingly informed him. "Why don't you just stand to the side and look pretty?"

"I can do that," the Doctor smiled smugly, adjusting his bowtie.

"The Osseus hive mind is stuck in a mental set, then," River told the girls. "It has a tendency for old patterns of problem solving to persist."

"So, the question is, how do we get it to stop?" Ollie interjected.

"Hush, Ollie, brilliant, beautiful minds at work," River waved him off, not unlocking her gaze with Kennedy's and Clara's. "You can go stand to the side and be pretty with him." A wide grin spread across her face. "Gosh, I love finally having other women on board."

Clara smiled back. "So, question is, how do we get it to stop?"

"Well, let's think through some problem solving strategies," Kennedy suggested. "Clara?"

"We could let it incubate," Clara said. "Set it aside for a while, keep walking. A solution could suddenly appear if we wait it out."

"My dad once waited 2,000 years for my mum while she was locked in a magic box," River replied. "Let's just say I did not inherit his patience."

"Okay, then, we'll try something else," Clara stated. "We could try means-end analysis, which involves continuously asking where we are in relation to our final goal and then deciding on the means we can take to get one step closer to that goal. Subgoal by subgoal."

"Takes too long," River decided. "Why shoot bullets when you could get it all done at once with a bomb?"

"Let's not bomb or shoot anything!" the Doctor interjected.

"Right," River sighed. "Ethics."

"Ooh! I've got it!" Clara declared. "Analogies! We try to find similarities between this problem and one we've encountered before."

"All right, then," River nodded. "We've got a powerful hive mind putting thoughts into people's heads that aren't their own. Sound familiar at all?"

Kennedy and Clara exchanged a glance. "The Voices."

"Kennedy, how much control have you exerted over the Osseus?" the Doctor asked, joining the women in their huddle.

She shrugged. "I linked with them, intuitively. I can see their thought process. I can give it simple commands, like leading me to the stone circle."

"We are going to find the stone circle," the Doctor took a deep breath. "And then you are going to need to take complete control of the hive mind."

"Well, I have to say that this solution certainly shows creativity," Ollie murmured, attempting to lighten the heavy mood as they approached whatever was beneath the stone circle. "Your friends' capacity to produce original solutions or novel compositions is pretty awesome."

"Thank you!" the Doctor beamed. "They're great at divergent thinking, aren't they? Generating many different solutions to a problem."

"Doctor, we've only come up with one solution," Kennedy reminded him.

"Yes, I know," he nodded. "And I am hoping that you can come up with a better idea rather quickly."

"You should be proud of us for utilizing our convergent thinking, Doctor," Kennedy smiled. "We applied the rules of logic and what we knew about the world to narrow down the possible solutions to our problem."

The Doctor paused. Then, very quietly, only for Kennedy's ears to hear, he whispered, "Are you afraid?"

Kennedy shook her head. He shouldn't have suspected anything less from the girl who kept a Dalek as a pet.

It was so, so beautiful.

"It's a spaceship!" Ollie exclaimed, rushing forward to admire the shining, spinning orb levitating beneath a shaft of light.

They were finally beneath the stone circle.

"Careful not to be evaded by your confirmation bias, Ollie," Clara warned him. "We have a tendency to pay more attention to evidence that supports our hypothesis about a problem rather than to evidence that refutes it. But just because it's shiny and floating doesn't mean that it's a spaceship. It could be anything, really."

"No, that's a spaceship," the Doctor clarified.

"What's it doing here, then?" Clara cross her arms.

"The Osseus made a gambler's fallacy," Kennedy smirked. "They believe that the probability of future events in a random process will change depending on past events. They think that if they keep implanting memories, then people will just go away and leave them alone."

"But we never will, will we?" Clara smiled. "The humans are never going to leave earth, are we, Doctor?"

He sighed. "Well…. That's another story for another day."

"But they want to leave earth, don't they, Doctor?" Kennedy gestured towards the spaceship. "The Osseus want to go home."

"Where is home?" the Doctor asked.

Kennedy closed her eyes. "Locus. But they can't leave. They're too afraid."

"Afraid of what?" Ollie asked.

Kennedy took a deep breath. "Of us. Humans. People." Confusion contorted her face. Then, jutting her chin towards the Doctor, she declared, "Him."

"What about me?" the Doctor declared. "I only want to help them!"

Eyes still closed, Kennedy shook her head. "The Oncoming Storm."

She took a step towards the spaceship..

"Wait." The Doctor reached out his arms to stop her. "Are we sure that this is the only way to do it? To potentially unleash an unknown evil force?"

"The Voices are not evil," Kennedy said steadily. "Power is about what is done with it."

The Doctor had a sinking feeling that that was the Voices speaking through her. "Kennedy, are you sure that you can do this? Are you sure that you can keep control?"

She nodded.

"This isn't group polarization, Doctor," Clara inserted. "Our group discussion didn't result in anything more extreme than we would have come up with individually. There was no suffocating majority view or trying to associate ourselves with the decision. It was unanimous.

"And we didn't fall victim to groupthink, either. Not one of us was rendered unable to evaluate the wisdom of various options and decisions realistically.

"We know what we're doing, Doctor. We know because you taught us. You asked us to save the world with you, and that is what we are going to do. Maybe not our world this time, but someone else's. And their world is just as important as ours." She placed a hand on the Doctor's shoulder. "You taught us that."

The Doctor took a deep breath.

He smiled.

"Clara, Kennedy, River- I am going to need to trust you."

River stepped up beside Kennedy. "Are you ready, love?"

Eyes still squeezed shut, Kennedy nodded. She stuck out an arm to the side. "I want him to hold my hand." The Doctor reached out for her fingers, but Kennedy retracted her arm. "Not you. They're scared of you." Carefully, she reached her other hand to the opposite side. "Ollie? Help a girl save someone else's world?"

Putting his bravest face on, Ollie stepped up to the challenge. "Just say the word." He wrapped her hand tightly in his.

Kennedy stepped into the shaft of light beneath the Osseus ship.


	3. Episode 3: The Boy In a Denim Jacket

_Hello, it's me again. My name is Kennedy. What's yours?_

 _Amisuum…._

 _That's beautiful. What does it mean?_

 _The Lost...we are the lost.._

 _It's okay. I'm here now. I've found you. Let's get you home_

 _Amisuum…..we are the lost…_

 _Yes, I've got that. Will you work with me? Oh, that hurts. Please stop_

 _AMISUUM…. WE ARE THE LOST_

 _Yes, Oh.. OH…. I just...want...to...help you…._

 _LOST NO MORE We will find our home in a new host…._

 _Oh… Please...no…._

 _Lost no more lost no more lost no more_

 _I'm so sorry. I really didn't want to have to do this. I'm so sorry._

 _We are l-l-_

 _I'm so sorry_

 _We are lo-...lo…._

 _So, so, so sorry_

 _We are legion. You are_

 _Oh! Ahh! AHHH!_

 _Lost no more found a host find us a host a host a host two legs to walk out on_

 _Ahhh! OOh! Eeeehhh!_

 _Host host host_

 _I will not die today_

 _We are legion_

 _GO! NOW! LEAVE! LEAVE ME!_

 _Host host host_

 _LEAVE! BE GONE! GET IN YOUR SHIP AND GO HOME!_

 _We are one_

 _I'm so sorry, Ollie…_

Ollie caught Kennedy as she collapsed, barely keeping her head from crashing to the ground. Her face was soaked in silent tears. "It's okay, Kennedy," he assured her, holding her in his arms. "It's okay. I've got you."

Ollie collapsed to the ground as the spaceship did.

When Kennedy came to, she was propped against the cold wall of the cavern. She sat in complete and total darkness. _Where's Ollie?_

Something moved beside her in the darkness. Ear sirens casting blue light in funny shadows, Dalek-Sven declared, "MY KENNEDY IS OKAAAAAY!"

"Kennedy! What happened?" the Doctor rushed to her side, pulling her to her feet. "Are you all right?"

"The Voices fought with the Amisuum- the Osseus," she answered, still barely able to stand on her own. "Something happened. They tried to take over my body as a host, but then something pushed them past me and into…." _Where's Ollie?_

"I'm right here, Kennedy," Ollie sighed, propped against the cave wall opposite her.

 _How are you doing that?_ Kennedy wondered.

"Doing what?" Ollie wrinkled his eyebrows.

"Reading my mind!" Kennedy exclaimed.

Ollie made a confused face. Why would she think he was reading her mind?  
 _Because you keep answering the questions in my head._

They locked eyes in the darkness.

Ollie was a part of the Voices.

They returned to the surface in silence. The Doctor led the way back to town hall, where he landed in his office chair with a thud.

Clara leaned against the desk. "What do we do now, Doctor?"

"We stay," Kennedy decided. "We stay, and we make sure that O- that the town is okay."

Clara glanced to the Doctor, who nodded tersely.

"I've just been doing the research," River popped back into the office from the file room where she had wandered off to. "The mayor position comes with a house. Filmore's on his way back to his mother's now."

The Doctor nodded again.

"Everything alright, sweetie?" River asked him.

The Doctor only nodded.

Kennedy followed Ollie to the little desk that he had in the corner of the town's newspaper offices. "So, Ollie, what do we do with this Doctor story?"

"Well," he began, plopping down in front of his typewriter. "I already have a lead in mind. I'm sure the rest of the story will follow. For now, would you mind to pick out an ideal font to set it in?"

"Oh, sure," Kennedy nodded. "How many complete sets of characters in a particular size and style of type do you have available? Including letter sets, number sets, and special characters?"

Ollie shrugged. "More than I've ever cared to count, but they're sorted by typeface, or font family, if you prefer. You know, series of fonts."

Kennedy turned around in the cramped office, nearly knocking into the boxes of type. It was so endearingly old-fashioned- the printing press where you still had to set the type by hand. _Ah, the days before the Internet…_

"What's the Internet?" Ollie asked.

"Um, it's something from the future," Kennedy answered awkwardly. "So I can't really tell you."

"Oh, okay," Ollie sighed, turning back to his typewriter.

"Wow, there are so many glyphs!" Kennedy changed the subject, admiring the thousands of individual characters.

"Yeah, there's about 265 for each font," Ollie told her. "Pretty wicked to us newspaper dweebs."

Kennedy chuckled. "Get back to your story."

As Ollie returned to his typewriter, Kennedy began to sift through the many, many fonts before her. The bins were divided into five rows, sorting the fonts into categories by the shapes of their glyphs.

The first font that she examined was an Old Style/Traditional font. The serifs were timelessly elegant, and she adored the way that the glyphs started thick and tapered to thin angles at the end. The diagonal stress of the letters was almost nostalgic of these labor-intensive printing press days, reminisced in the way that these fonts were the best for print body copy. Kennedy made a note to herself to return to this font category for the article's body copy.

The next row of fonts was san serifs: Humanist, Grotesque, and Geometric. Kennedy recalled that sans serif was French for "without serif." These easy-to-read fonts were best for print headlines and sidebars. In the future, they were the best choice for online body copy as well.

Kennedy's eyes roved to the next row of fonts. The lovely, swooping Script fonts were her favorite because they resembled old-fashioned penmanship. She loved how the glyphs connected on the downstroke the way that cursive writing did. Unfortunately, however, the readability of Script fonts was difficult, and it was thus best limited to small amounts in both print and online formats.

A strange assortment of Decorative fonts were next in line. These fonts were as varied as the sky was blue. They worked for print and online headlines, or decoration and ornamentation. Kennedy sometimes liked to use Decorative fonts for very small amounts of type in her projects.

Kennedy moved down the line. She had a silent chuckle at the slab serif fonts with their uniformly thick, fat serifs. She supposed she might use one for a print headline. These fonts also would work well if they did a TV spot, just as they did in limited quantities on the web.

Finally was the Modern fonts, with their extremely thin serifs and vertical stresses. She knew that though these fonts might work well for headlines, details, or ornaments, they would not be a good choice for the reading copy. Modern fonts weren't good for screen, either.

Taking a step back from the bins of type, Kennedy took a deep breath. It was time to choose her fonts. The first thing that she needed to consider was readability. Secondly was legibility. Knowing that an Old Style font was best for print, she chose a lovely Baskerville for the body copy. Next, she needed to choose a contrasting font for the headline. Deciding on a slab serif, she went with ITC Grouch.

As she began to lay out her chosen fonts, Kennedy thought about the last time she'd chosen fonts. When helping design a web layout for a group project, she had been limited in her options of fonts because browsers only have so many fonts they'll support. Thankfully, however, one of her group members knew how to avert the problem using a Cascading Style Sheet, which gave them the ability to specify fonts beyond browser defaults.

The next thing to consider as Ollie finished up his article was the way that the type would look on the page. For the print body, she chose glyphs that were 10-11 points. She considered writing out the headline in all caps, but then she remembered that this was a bad idea because all caps made font more difficult to read. It was also associated too closely with shouting. As she contemplated adding any bold or italic words, she wished that she could simply press the faux bold and italic buttons at the top of her word processing program. However, this was also a bad idea, as those buttons merely distorted the font. A true bold or italic needed to come from a bold or italic version of the font itself, which could typically be found in the typeface.

"Alright, I've got the story ready to go!" Ollie beamed, presenting Kennedy with the still-setting paper. "Let's set this type!"

Working together, they picked out all of the letters in the article, setting them one at a time in the printing press. They adjusted the leading between lines, the tracking between characters, and the kerning between individual glyphs. When the copy proved to be rather lengthy, they broke it up with heads and subheads, paragraph indicators, and even a bulleted list or two.

"What if we reversed if, for dramatic effect?" Ollie suggested. "Put a light font on a dark background?"

"I think that might waste too much ink," Kennedy replied. "But we could start with an initial or a drop cap, make the first letter or word bigger than the rest."

Ollie nodded. "Just as long as we don't use any small caps. The way a bigger first letter looks in a completely capitalized word really ticks off my editor."

"Ooh! Better idea!" Kennedy exclaimed. "What if we use color?"

"Wicked!" Ollie declared. "Not only will using color create impact, but it will also help organize the content and evoke emotion."

"It's been doing that since Isaac Newton discovered the color spectrum with prisms," Kennedy joked.

Laughing along, Ollie showed her to the book that the newspaper office kept of printed ink samples. "In the early 1900s, during the Bauhaus school of design, Itter taught a lot about color contrast. I always like to keep his ideas in mind when I design with color."

"Christmas, kings, and blue jeans!" Kennedy recited. "That's how I remember the primaries and the complements that are opposite them on the color wheel."

"I always thought it was cool how you could get a secondary color by mixing two primaries," Ollie commented. "Or a tertiary color by mixing a primary with its nearest secondary."

"Triads are pretty cool, too," Kennedy nodded. "The triangles four hours apart on the color wheel always manage to look so good together."

"Or getting an analogous color by mixing colors that are next to each other," Ollie added. "Pairing them creates unity."

"So, how should we choose our colors?" Kennedy inquired. "Do we want to consider history? Culture? Nature?"

"Nature, I think, since we were in the woods," Ollie smiled. "We'll go with green as our base, and since it's almost Christmas, we can also consider culture and use its complement red as an accent."

"We need to be sure that we're designing for readability and visibility," she reminded him as they began to layout their pages. "Maybe just use splashes of color for visual interest."

Ollie nodded. _I wonder how they design page layouts where she's from…_

"Screen color is a lot different from printed color," Kennedy replied out loud. "The screens and the printers don't speak the same language, so color management can be pretty difficult, even just going from one device to another. They tried a web safe palette, but even that's pretty limiting."

"Well, here we just use good old-fashioned CMYK," Ollie laughed. "Layering four different colors of ink."

"In...well, in the future, you'll do the same, only layering light," Kennedy explained. "It's called RGB. It uses the hexadecimal system. Or, to get specific colors in printing, there's the Pantone matching system."

"Wow," Ollie shook his head. "The future sounds amazing…"

"Hey! How are we doing in here?" Clara greeted them, interrupting their quiet moment.

"Hey, Clara! We're just about to start adding visuals to our layout," Ollie greeted her.

"Very nice," Clara nodded, peeking over their shoulders at the layout they were working on. "What pictures did you get?"

"Well, I managed to take about a dozen before we disappeared into the dark," Ollie answered. "But I still need to sort through them. I need quality images with clear subjects. Let me go get them from the dark room. I left my camera with the photojournalist who works in there as soon as we got back."

When Ollie returned with the pictures, Kennedy laid out the guidelines for quality images. "Okay, people, we are looking for asymmetrical balance and the rule of thirds, tight cropping, natural lines to create movement, and interesting lighting."

"I shot in 200 dpi resolution, which is the best for newspaper," Ollie told them as they leafed through the photographs. "However, if they were for another print project, I would've shot in 300 dpi. That's dots per inch, Clara."

"I know, Ollie," Clara replied cooly. "And ideal web graphic resolution is 72 dpi."

"If we were putting these photos on the web, we'd have to save them as JPEG, GIF, or PNG," Kennedy added. "Or for print, TIF or EPS."

"Where do you get photos from in the future?" Ollie asked.

"If you're not taking your own, you can either work with a professional photographer or use a digital stock site to find free pictures online," Kennedy explained. "However, you don't want to use photos straight from web galleries-"

"Because they're copyrighted," Ollie finished her train of thought. He looked up from his pictures to see both girls staring at him questioningly. "Sorry."

"What if we use alternatives to images, too?" Kennedy suggested as they scrutinized the two usable photos that Ollie had taken. "We can use illustrations or clip art, or even type in the forms of rendered type and pull quotes. Let's make the headline look like a bowtie!"

"I like it!" Ollie agreed.

"Too bad this isn't 2015," Kennedy replied, "because then we could use video or multimedia elements as well."

"You could make an infographic," Clara suggested.

"An infographic?" Ollie wrinkled his nose. He straightened out his denim jacket. "What's that?"

" _USA Today_ is going to help popularize them," Kennedy explained. "But it's like how early cavemen and even ancient Egyptians would use pictures to display information. Or like the NASA Voyager interstellar space probe from '77."  
"Okay, I think I understand," Ollie nodded. "It will be good because our copy is pretty lengthy, and we need to communicate quickly. This story is going to take Groton by storm."

"Let's start with the types of infographics that we can use," Clara suggested. "Kennedy?"

"We can use text boxes for profiles of the Doctor and his friends, horse races listing some people who've reported seeing the skeletons dance, or a two-fer of the before and after effects of what happened with the Amisuum."

"The Amissuum?" Clara looked confused.

"That's what we call ourselves," Ollie answered a bit too quickly for comfort. "I mean, what they called themselves. Lost."

"We could do a sequence," Kennedy cut in, not wanting to think about how Ollie knew what the Osseus had told her. "A demo of what we did, a how-to for dealing with the memory, or a timeline of the Doctor's involvement with Groton."

She continued on, full speed ahead. "Or there's maps, diagrams, charts and graphs."

"I like the idea of the profiles, the timeline, and the map," Ollie replied.

Kennedy smiled. "Now, we need to keep in mind that these infographics have to be able to stand alone. We've already researched beforehand, so we should use grids to organize and structure what information we're going to put in. Minimize ornamentation. And group things. Always group things.

"The design scheme that we choose needs to be compatible with our overall design of the layout. We also need to be careful if this thing is going to appear in black and white. When we write it, we need to keep the writing tight and be sure to give credit where credit is due."

"When I credit, I always _due_ ," Ollie smirked. Kennedy laughed so hard that she had to stop to catch her breath.

Clara put her hand to her forehead. "Goodness, you two really are perfect for each other."

When the article had finally gone to print, Ollie's editor instructed him to organize a piece for the local broadcast network. However, when he called up the broadcast reporters. every single one of them was wrapped up in a breaking story on the local mental health care facility where many patients were suddenly experiencing miraculous recovery.

"Oh, boy," Ollie mutter to himself. "Looks like we'll have to do this piece ourselves, too. I'll go get my video camera."

They started with a storyboard, laying out the visual story if the planned video. They represented moving pictures and sound with still pictures and type.

"How do we want to frame this shot?" Ollie asked, looking through the lense of his bulky video camera. "Direct me for how to frame this scene within the four corners of the visual screen. Do you want a close-up, medium, long, or full shot?"

"Well, whatever we choose as our establishing shot is going to be what welcomes viewers to the visual scene," Kennedy replied. "I say-"

"Close-up," Ollie nodded.

 _Stop doing that._

 _I can't. I'm sorry. I don't know what's happening._

 _Me, either. Let's ignore it until it goes away._

 _Good philosophy._

 _Thank you._

"We also need to consider perspective- how deeply the viewer sees into the shot- and point of view," Kennedy continued. "We can use the camera to nudge the audience to identify with, say, Clara's POV as we reenact the walk to the forest. Camera angle-where we shoot from- is important to consider as well."

"What kind of movement are we going to show?" Clara inquired.

"We could do a panning shot of the stone circles," Ollie suggested. "Swing a stationary camera across the scene."

"Or we could put the camera on a dolly and truck it across the scene," Kennedy added. "I also think that for the walk through the forrest, we should do a handheld shot. One of us can hold the camera and walk behind the Doctor."

"We should get a tracking shot of him walking from another angle, follow his movement with a stationary camera," Ollie said.

"How about we start with a push shot into the walking scene?" Kennedy suggested. "We can do zoom or dolly."

"Be sure to keep continuity in mind, though," Clara interjected. "As one story with many shots, it all needs to work together."

"Right," Kennedy and Ollie nodded in unison.

Next, they added in transitions, sequences between shots and scenes. Mostly they used simple cuts, but they also incorporated a cutaway by inserting a shot of Ollie and Kennedy talking while the Doctor reenacted his explanation of his memory in the forest. They also used a cut-in of the Doctor's fingers intertwined with River's when they transitioned to the part of the interview where he introduced her as his wife.

Perhaps the most difficult part of the video-making process was setting up lights on the Doctor. No amount of key light from the main source, fill light to supplement, or backlight highlighting him could disguise the fact that he had virtually no eyebrows.

"In the future, I would edit those in," Kennedy joked with him.

They planned the type for visibility and contrast, using fonts that appeared clearly on the television screen to display the names of who was being interviewed. The audio went from textual directions in the storyboard to well-versed narration on film. The only thing that could have made it better would have been to have spec cuts to animate the storyboard after it was finished.

"I like that we're getting multimedia here!" the Doctor declared, wiggling his fingers. "Multisensory! User interactivity made possible!"

Kennedy smiled at his excitement. This was one of the many reasons that she loved journalism. There were so many stories that she could tell, and so many different ways in which she could tell them. Flipping through Ollie's stack of photos, she thought about the interactive gallery or slideshow that she would make if she could put these photos on the web. She imagined herself editing the pictures, assembling them under a common theme, and putting them together with simple transitions. Heck, maybe she would even use the Ken Burns effect- a gradual simultaneous zoom in or out and panning across still images in a slideshow. She came up with the captions that she would add. She wouldn't state the obvious; she would cover what was not obvious but relevant. And since this slideshow would tell a story, she wouldn't need to loop it.

Ollie worked hard to get the best quality audio that he could manage. capturing narration and ambient sound on video. His audio highlighted what was important and reinforced the mood and tone of the piece. Kennedy mused that she would like to add some of the audio into her slideshow. Of course, she would allow user controls in the off chance that her audience didn't agree with her decision.

"I'm sorry that we can't put any of this stuff on the Twitternet," Ollie whispered to Kennedy as they returned to the forest to shoot more video footage. "It stinks, because you can even imagine how the pacing of the images and the audio helps set the overall tone."

"I don't know how I feel about you reading my thoughts," Kennedy sighed as she set up the tripod to steady the camera. Their eyes met over the three legs. "But I do know how you feel about me."

"Oi, are we ready to film yet?" the Doctor called out. "I think it's raining!"

"Hey, no talking while we're shooting, please!" Kennedy called back to him. Her heart was racing out of her chest. Somehow, she more than read his thoughts- she understood them. To Ollie, she said, "Are you sure the light here is bright enough?"

Ollie nodded. "Let's shoot some test footage. Have Clara walk across the path that we took earlier."

And she did. They shot a lot of video, more than they needed, really. Each shot was composed, each scene captured from a variety of angles. There was no zooming or panning. They interviewed the Doctor, River, and the girls back in the mayor's office because it was a quiet location. Loud, strange-looking Dalek-Sven was unfortunately left out of the video footage when they decided that two species of aliens was already enough for the people of Groton to handle.

Ollie edited the video rather quickly. He had good, usable audio and began with the best video quality possible. The transitions that he used kept it simple. By the time Ollie finished editing the video, its duration sat ideally between two to three minutes. "If it was for the web, I would export it as MP4, wouldn't I?" he mused.

Kennedy nodded. "Ollie, your aunt was your best friend before she died. She raised you until she lost her mind from the skeleton memories." She caught herself. "I'm sorry…"

"It's okay," he assured her, placing his hand over top of hers on the desk. "It's just us here in the editing room, so it doesn't matter, I guess. She's the reason I'm so interested in the skeletons and the Doctor."

Kennedy offered a small smile. "I wish she could be here to see the amazing work that you're doing now. She would be proud of you."

"And you're wishing that we could add an animation of the Doctor in a Sherlock Holmes hat," Ollie laughed. "30 frames per second of… clueing for looks? But it couldn't loop endlessly."

"Or it could," Kennedy smirked. "To torment him. We could make it easily as a tweened animation, where only key changes in motion or shape are animated."

"Kennedy, I suddenly know what an app is," Ollie said suddenly. "It's a program built to run on a computer or a mobile device. It often supplements a website. I suddenly know a lot about the future." He pointed to where Dalek-Sven looped around the corner. "And his kind. And…" He glanced away nervously. "And it kind of freaks me out."

"Welcome to my world," Kennedy smirked. "I think of it like this: the Voices are a plug-in. It's a code that gives browsers or websites additional functionality. In this case, that additional functionality is a hive mind, sort of a collective intelligence. Then, everyone or thing that is connected to this plug-in becomes a widget, which is a visible expression of the existence of that plug-in. These widgets require user input, which uploads their consciousness to the hive mind." She pat him on the shoulder. "Welcome to my hive mind. I'm the motherboard."

Ollie looked at her with such pain in his expression. "How do you live like this?"

Taking a deep breath, Kennedy sunk into the seat beside him. "I like to think of myself as a webmaster. When you work with a webmaster, here's what you can expect to do: prepare simple images and content for an existing website, work with a content management system (CMS), create a site from a template, and work with a pro Web designer and/or developer to create a custom site with custom functionality. Working with me, you'll help me gather simple facts and make illustrations for organizing and explaining everything that's going on inside the hivemind. Instead of creating sites from templates, we can use the templates that I've made up in my own mind to organize all of the information that's suddenly flooding us. We're sort of our own CMS. Instead of web pros, we'll work with the Doctor, River, and Clara to create a custom network inside this hive mind with custom functionality."

"If we're building a network, then how will we access it?" Ollie asked.

"It's sort of how the internet works," Kennedy began. "To access it, you need a computer, a web browser, and an ISP or wireless network. You're the computer, your mind is the browser, and the Voices are the network. Stay in control of it.

"Now, you need three things to have and maintain a website- server space, a domain name, and a File Transfer Protocol Program. The server space is your 'paid parking space' on the web. It's where we'll choose to put each site of information on our network. Next, the domain name is a custom URL purchased through a registrar, which we'll use to mean the names that we file each site under so we can find them again later. Finally, the File Transfer Protocol gets the webpage into the server space- the Voices do this for us when we utilize control over them and anything else in the network.

"Eventually, my goal is to be able to access the information like a CMS- without the FTP, without the Voices."

"So, then, designing these information sites would be like designing for the web?" Ollie asked.

"Exactly!" Kennedy clarified. "First, establish a grid and content hierarchy. Then, define relationships among assets on the page. Create a sense of direction, limit the need to scroll, and keep navigation near the top. Use a logo as the home page link."

"And I see you've used a TARDIS as your logo," Ollie smiled. "Okay, let's practice. Talk me through the design components, and I'll organize a website."

"Okay," Kennedy nodded. She was unfortunately, unduly excited to finally have someone else who could share in the Voices with her. " The header is the name of the site and the logo or graphic."

"It says Kennedy Humphries," Ollie smiled, eyes closed. "And there's a picture of the TARDIS."

She was glad that his eyes were still closed so that he couldn't see her blush. "Next, navigation. A set of links to take you to other pages in the site."

"Mmm. there's your story, stories you've written, study notes, ideas, and dreams," Ollie decided. "And I, too, would love to go to London."

"What's your content?" Kennedy asked. "Everything from copy to multimedia components."

"Every story you've ever wanted to tell is written in the copy, and, man, are they incredible," Ollie began. "You study notes are these crazy interactive graphs. All of your dreams are little videos of what you picture in your head."

"And the footer, with address, contact information, and text versions of the navigation?" Kennedy gulped.

"I see your phone number," Ollie blushed. "And the fact that I am going to call you."

Kennedy wondered if her cell service covered 1981. She wondered why this had to be the first place she fell in love…

"How's the graphical user interface?" Kennedy asked. "The GUI?"

"User interface?" Ollie smiled. "You tell me."

And then, as if it was the simplest thing in the world, he kissed her.

And she kissed him back.

"Responsive web design," Kennedy smirked.

"Making a site work on all screens," Ollie defined the term, pressing his lips to her temple.

Ollie's head pounded after he kissed Kennedy. Pushing the sudden migraine aside, he regrouped the team for one final project- choosing paper to print their layout on. This was especially important now that the project had grown from a simple news article to an information packet that his editor wanted to distribute with each copy of the morning paper.

"Now, there are three types of paper," Ollie began, fighting to keep his sight focused. "Coated, uncoated, and specialty. When you choose paper, functionality is important." He passed out a set of swatch books. "We need to consider weight, the way it behaves with ink, color and brightness, and compatibility with printers."

"What about being green?" Clara inquired. "You know, the quality of recycled paper greatly improves in the future. There's also sustainable sources for paper and ink, as well as environmental friendly certifications for printers and such."

"Speaking of printers, are we going to print in house?" Kennedy inquired. "Do we need it fast and in limited quantities? Do we even have a budget? But, no, then our design can't bleed, and our paper options will be so limited…"

"We could use a quick printer, which has more paper options and can bleed," Ollie told her. "But then, that's just as tricky as in-house when it comes to folding and paper size accommodations and such."

"We'll probably need to use a commercial/offset printer, then," Kennedy sighed. "They offer the greatest flexibility, anyhow. They can print and assemble basically anything that's 500 pieces or more. And, they can do cool stuff like embossing and foiling."

"And the greater our print run, the lower the cost per piece," Ollie added. "Or, if we need more than 10,000-20,000, we might be best off going to a web offset because they utilize extremely large rolls of paper.

"It's too bad we can't just go to a digital print," Clara shrugged. "They use toner instead of ink. How many prints do we actually need? It's best for 500 or fewer, I'd think. Though there's really no price break for larger quantities, they can do output variable data printing."

"Here's what you need to consider," the Doctor, ever the brilliant one, chime in. "quantity, flat and finished sizes, number of pages, choice of paper and weight, number of inks, bleeds, binding and finishing, delivery date, and delivery instructions."

After they decided on a commercial printer, River led the team in preparing the document for printing. She instructed Ollie to do another proofread and check the image resolutions. Kennedy was instructed to check for spot or process printing and set up the document bleeds. The Doctor cleaned up the pasteboards and swatch palettes as his wife told him to. River herself completed the final flight check.

They were ready.

Ollie gave the printer everything that they would need: the layout, all images used, the fonts, a hard copy of the document, and his contact info. At the printing press, he checked for these things: text, fonts, folios, all photos/visuals, margins, spot colors, specialty items, and types. They even stayed late for a press check so that they could view the first sheets of the actual print run. Ollie checked and double checked paper, color, visuals and type, varnishes and other finals, registration, and ink.

Everything was perfect.

"I wish you could come with us," Kennedy quiet to Ollie as he walked with them to the TARDIS in the early hours of the morning.

"So do I, but somebody's got to stay and deal with the repercussion on the town," Ollie sighed.

"Oh, Doctor, couldn't he come?" Clara begged. "Look how sweet they are!"

River chuckled. "It might be like having my mum and dad on board again."

"Of course Ollie's coming with us," the Doctor assured them. He smiled at the young man. "There's no question about it."

As they climbed back into the TARDIS, the passengers eagerly discussed where and when they wanted to go next. Even Dalek-Sven screamed along in his excitement. The Doctor, however, only smiled sadly, because he knew what he had to do.

The TARDIS landed. "River, stay in here with the girls, please," the Doctor instructed. "Ollie, please come with me."

Kennedy glanced up at the locator. "Doctor, no." She ran over to him, tears welling in her eyes. "Doctor, please, don't."

He put one hand on her shoulder and one hand on Ollie's. Leaning down to their level, the Doctor quietly explained. "I'm so sorry that it has to be this way, but he has an entire alien race swimming around inside of his subconscious. I'm afraid he needs more help than we can give him."

"No," Kennedy gasped. "Is that what happened to the Amisuum?"

The Doctor nodded solemnly. "I did a medical scan with my sonic screwdriver. Because they needed a host body to walk them out, the Voices uploaded the Osseus hivemind to the nearest brain."

"And why not mine?" Kennedy cried. "I was there….I'm the one who talked to them."

"The Voices were protecting their own host, I believe," the Doctor replied.

"Then why not leave me here, too, then?" she demanded.

"Because you are in control of the Voices," the Doctor explained, "But the Osseus are not under his control. And I don't want him to end up under theirs."

"What's going on?" Ollie asked meekly.

Kennedy took a deep breath. "We're checking you into the best mental health facility in all of time and space. It's actually where I got the Voices from." She wrapped Ollie in a tight hug. "But we'll come back for you soon, I swear, and then we'll take you right back to the exact moment we took you from."

Ollie took a deep breath. "Well, I suppose it's for the good of the universe…."

The Doctor pat him on the back. "Come along, Ollie."

And the boy in the denim jacket, who carried his hometown's afflictions within in own consciousness, walked away a broken-hearted hero.


	4. Ep 4: Journey To The Center Of The Cell

Clara Oswald missed the Doctor.

It had been one month, two weeks, and four and a half days since the madman had last come down out of the sky with his blue box to rescue them from the crippling boredom of an introvert's daily life. She wanted to get him to come back. And how was she going to do that?

With science, of course.

Clara knew that science was not just a body of knowledge or a list of facts to be memorized. Rather, science was an intellectual activity, encompassing observation, description, experimentation, and explanation of a natural phenomena. The most important question of scientific thinking was this: How do you know that is true?

Clara and her best friend Kennedy accepted the reality of the Doctor as fact. "The Doctor is real" was a statement repeatedly proven to be true. Clara knew, for she had done enough research on the mysterious alien to develop a theory, a proposition to explain something. However, the bulk of her research was, unfortunately, concluded from anecdotal evidence. Stories weren't enough; they couldn't be tested or repeated.

So, Clara resolved to use the Scientific Method to bring the Doctor back. It was used to answer empirical questions about the natural world. More specifically, Clara and Kennedy had been using it in biology- the study of living things. Because of her strong scientific literacy, Clara had a general, fact-based understanding of the basics of biology and other sciences, and she felt quite capable of utilizing her knowledge to solve her problem. Even more specifically, she planned to utilize her biological literacy- her ability to use the process of scientific inquiry to think creatively about real-world issues with a biological component, communicate these thoughts to others, and integrate these ideas into her decision making. This kind of thinking required two kinds of thinking. Clara was better at inductive reasoning; she could use specific info to form a general rule. Kennedy, however, was better at deductive reasoning, starting with the general rule and applying it to a specific situation. It was too bad that Kennedy never wanted to see the Doctor again, writing him off as a superstitious belief in an action not logically related to a course of events being able to influence its outcome. The Doctor, in her mind, would never be able to change the future.

Shaking off her roommate's misplaced distaste, Clara began her scientific process to bring the Doctor back. First was observation. When did the Doctor come before? Most of the time, it had to do with a problem somewhere else. The Doctor showed up where he was needed. Next, she formulated a hypothesis. The explanation that she proposed for the observed phenomena of the Doctor showing up was this: The TARDIS takes the Doctor where he is needed. This was a good hypothesis, by her standards. It clearly established mutually exclusive alternative explanations, and it generated testable predictions.

Next was to devise a testable prediction. She predicted that if she created a situation in which only the Doctor could save her or Kennedy, then the TARDIS would bring the Doctor back to Sunshine Southern College.

Now that she had her prediction, she needed to set up her experiment to test it. A critical experiment would make it possible to decisively determine whether her hypothesis was to be rejected or confirmed. This was not going to be a particularly _good_ experiment, but she had to try.

So, Clara did a bad thing. When Kennedy was sleeping, she stuck her roommate's hand into the crack in the wall. This was the variable- the hand being in the wall. Clara's own hands were the control. Kennedy awoke as if she was still in a nightmare.

"Clara!" she screamed. "The Voices! The Voices are pulling me in!" Kennedy clutched tightly to her mattress with her free hand as brilliantly glowing forces leaked from the mysterious crack and sucked and tugged at her arm. "Clara, Sven, help me!"

The Dalek whirred to Kennedy and reached out his plunger-arm for her to grap. He tugged and tugged, but it was no use. Clara stared on in horror was her roommate began to disappear. What had she done?

"Kennedy, I'm so sorry!" she yelled over Kennedy's screaming.

"Why? Just help me!"

"I put your hand in the crack-for science!"

"What?"

"I thought that if I created a situation where only the Doctor could save us, then-"

 _VWORP! VWORP! VWORP!_

As if by magic, the TARDIS materialized in the middle of their dorm. The Doctor burst through the doors like a hero in a storybook. With a crack of his knuckles and a whir of his sonic screwdriver, the Doctor had Kennedy freed from the wall and safely in his arms.

"Well, I guess I can make my conclusions now," Clara sighed, shamefully a bit pleased with the results of her experiment. "My theory was correct! Welcome back, Doctor!" She ran at him with open arms, joining the trio into a warm embrace. More than just hierarchical organization and the power of evolution, Clara had used biology to bring her beloved friend home.

"Get off me," Kennedy grunted, wrenching herself away from the Doctor and plopping down across the room with her arms crossed.

The Doctor scowled. "I just saved you!"

"I was perfectly capable of saving myself, thank you very much." She threw the covers up over her head.

"No, you were perfectly capable of being sucked into nonexistence,." The Doctor pulled the blankets from the bed and pulled Kennedy back into his arms. "The Voices were pulling you. We almost lost you, Kennedy."

"You don't seem to care if we lose anyone," she snarled.

The Doctor took a deep breath as he watched Kennedy pace across the room. "I got your distress call, Kennedy." He held up his psychic paper, on which her handwriting had scraggled, _"The Voices are pulling me in!"_

She scowled. "I never wrote that."

The Doctor cocked his head at Clara. "And _you,_ young lady. Why would you do that to your friend?" He squinted at her. She was just so, so familiar…

"I wanted to see if you'd come back," Clara admitted. "I missed you."

"Missing someone is a waste of time," Kennedy grumbled for the millionth time. "We're all just a bunch of atoms, taking up otherwise empty space in the universe."

"Empty space in the universe?" the Doctor smiled. "There is no such thing, my dear Kennedy Humphries." He stood and offered them each a hand. "Can I show you? Please?"

With a shrug, Kennedy walked to the TARDIS. "You won't leave me alone until we do."

Sadly, Kennedy ran her hand up and down the inside wall of the TARDIS. "What is this thing made of, anyway?"

"Gallifreyum," the Doctor replied matter-of-a-factly. "Most valuable element in the universe. You see, TARDISes are grown, not 'made.' When they grow, they are 100 percent pure Gallifreyum. No amount of chemicals or any other substance could break this element down into anything else."

"It could be broken down into protons, neutrons, and electrons," Kennedy countered. "Atomic structure."

"Ah, yes, but matter can't be subdivided any further than an atom without losing its essential properties," he told her. "No atoms of Gallifreyum, no more Gallifreyum."

"What atomic number is Gallifreyum?" Clara asked. trying to break the tension.

"There are 3,347 protons in the nucleus of Gallifreyum," the Doctor answered as he pulled levers and pressed buttons to steer his TARDIS into deep space. "And the atomic mass, the combined number of neutrons and protons, is 6,694."

"But what if an atom of Gallifreyan has a different number of neutrons than the average one does?" Clara furthered.

"Then it's an isotope," he explained. "Same atomic number but different atomic mass."

Suddenly, the TARDIS shook and rattled.

"Are Gallifreyum atoms radioactive?" Clara asked, reaching out to steady herself. "Because that felt a lot like a few atomic nuclei were not stable and began breaking down spontaneously."

The Doctor shook his head. "Radioactive atoms release, at a constant rate, a tiny, high-speed particle carrying a lot of energy. That kind of technology powers other craft, but the TARDIS runs off the power of a dying star."

"Then what's going on?" Kennedy demanded as the TARDIS was pulled around a huge curve. "Why are we spinning?"

The Doctor yanked the screen down to eye level. "I believe that the TARDIS has been pulled into a planet's orbit. It seems to think we're a giant electron!"

"There is enough negative charge in here to make us one," Clara sighed, nodding at Kennedy.

Kennedy sighed. "If we're stuck in a giant electron shell, then how do we get out? Are we in the valence shell?" The Doctor nodded. "Then we'll have to bond."

"ATOMS BOND INTO MOLECUUULES!" Dalek-Sven screamed, repeating the study guide for the girls' last biology quiz.

"How much bond energy will it take to jump out of this orbit?" Kennedy groaned. She stood in front of the TARDIS controls and closed her eyes.

"Don't touch anything!" the Doctor whined. "It's my TARDIS, and only I know how to fly it!"

"It may be your TARDIS, but you're the worst pilot she's ever seen," River smirked as she emerged from a hallway, towelling her blonde curls. "Ah! Girls! Welcome home!"

River took her place in front of the TARDIS control panel. With a metal groan, the TARDIS shifted into another orbit. River looked at the screen. "I moved us into a covalent bond. Now, we're being shared in the orbits of two planets It's polar, though. The first planet still has a bit of a stronger hold on the TARDIS."

"Let's get out of here!" the Doctor pulled another lever, and the TARDIS flew straight into the orbit of a completely different planet. "There we are! Ionic bonding! Clara?"

"An ionic bond occurs when an electron is gained or donated," she began. "Now, the planet that lost us has a slightly positive charge, and the planet that gained us has a slightly negative charge. Therefore, the planets are now attracted through electromagnetic forces."

"It's an ion," Kennedy added. "A charged atom."

"More than that, it seems to be a hydrogen bond out there." Clara squinted at the blurry image on the screen. "Look at the V-shaped alignment of those planets! It looks like the polar ends of the molecules are attracting each other!"

"Um, is that why that black hole is so easily sucking the planets away?" Kennedy pointing to the startling image on the screen. As if with cohesion, one molecule moved up to make room for another in a mock-vacuum.

"That's not a black hole, that's a monster!" River exclaimed. "Look at it! It's walking on top of the planets' bonds, like a water strider!"

The Doctor looked at the screen again. "That's a pyrovile, sucking up all of these planets! We should be burning up!"

"Then these really must be hydrogen bonds," Clara said. "It's what gives water a high heat capacity. It takes a lot of energy to change the temperature."

"Yes, and water also has low density as a solid and is a good solvent," Kennedy sneered. "But we're dying now."

"A good solvent!" the Doctor declared suddenly. He ran to the bathroom and came back with an extremely long shower hose. "I extended the shower hose so that River could reach her hair. Open the door!"

River pushed the doors open, and the Doctor aimed the powerful shower hose at the pyrovile. The rush of water broke down the ionic compounds by attracting different charges, and the planets were freed from their bonds. As if it was ice that had suddenly melted, the planets began to sink down into the stars and far away from the pyrovile.

River slammed the doors shut as the Doctor returned the shower hose to the bathroom. When he came back, soaking wet, he leaned against control panel and transported them to a planet that he hoped would be dry.

River looked at herself in the reflection of the screen. Crunching her curls between her fingers, she sighed, "I think the pH of my shampoo is killing my hair. It must be too acidic."

"Shampoos need to be basic, with a pH over seven," Clara told her. "More hydroxide ions, fewer hydrogen ions.

"Maybe you can find one that has buffers, the way blood does, to absorb or release excess hydrogen atoms as needed to keep the pH balanced."

"Not a bad idea," River nodded. She ran a hand through her husband's hair. "Sweetie, you need to use different shampoo, too, Maybe something with a pH under seven so that the acids can dissolve all this grease."

"Oi! My hair is cool!" the Doctor scowled. "What, would you rather me shave my head?"

River laughed. "You won't yet."

The Doctor gave her another scowl, which she countered with a kiss.

With a goofy smile, he threw open the TARDIS doors. "Welcome to Eukaryopolis!"

"As in, a eukaryotic cell?" Clara put her hands on her hips. "Are you just making things up now?"

"Rule number one," River smirked, leading the way out of the TARDIS. "The Doctor lies."

Kennedy did not want to leave the TARDIS. She did not want to go to some random planet on a random adventure with these random people who may or may not exist. She wanted to go home, back to real life, back to her life, back to life before the Doctor.

Back to life before Ollie.

"The most basic unit of any organism is the cell," the Doctor rattled on like a low-paid tour guide vying for tips. "Wouldn't you think that somewhere out there in the universe, a cell had evolved into a world of its own?"

As soon as they stepped into Eukaryopolis, vesicles of air engulfed them to transport them through the jelly-like cytoplasmic atmosphere of the strange planet. Chemical reactions took place all throughout the fluid-filled sack of a planet. Like nearly all cells, this planet even seemed to contain DNA that wrote life into it.

"Robert Hook, who discovered cells back in the 1600s, would have loved to see this!" Clara beamed, gazing at the wonderful world of organelles outside of her vesicle. "How did it get here, Doctor?"

"Well, cell theory says two things," the Doctor began. "All living things are made up of one or more cells, and all cells arise from preexisting cells. Eukaryopolis was a cell that never stopped growing."

"Is there a Prokaryopolis?" Clara inquired.

The Doctor nodded. "It's much simpler than this planet. It has a plasma membrane, cytoplasm, ribosomes to make proteins, and circles of DNA, but no nucleus. Unlike Eukaryopolis, it also has a rigid cell wall to protect it and a whip-like flagellum to help it move through the stars."

"Look! There's the nucleus!" Clara pointed at the cell's giant control center. "And there's the mitochondria!"

"You know, Mitochondria is almost like its own little planet," the Doctor mused. "Same with Chloroplast on Eukaryopolis's plant cell sister planet."

"How did it come to be that way?" Clara asked.

"Legend points towards endosymbiosis," he explained. "According to the old stories, Mitochondria was its own planet at the beginning of time. However, when the people of Eukaryopolis were hungry, they conquered Mitochondria and engulfed it whole. The people of Mitochondria begged for mercy, swearing that they held the technology to produce all the power that Eukaryopolis could ever need. So, they drew up a treaty. As long as Mitochondria keeps converting food into energy, it's an organelle."

"And what's that organelle?" Kennedy pointed to a tall man in a furry hat driving a vesicle with a siren towards them.

The Doctor scowled. "That would be the border police."

"State your name and function!" the officer demanded, knocking on the side of the Doctor's vesicle.

"Doctor, doctor," he smiled in reply. "Well, not a medical doctor. Well, technically, yes, also a doctor of cheesemaking…"

"Dr. River Song, archeologist," River cut in, holding out her hand for the officer to shake. "I'm here to study the history of the Eukaryopolian people. These people are my team. The two students are doing graduate work under me, the robot is a helper monkey, and the tall one is my husband. I brought him along so he wouldn't pout."

"Pleased to meet you, Dr. Song," the officer nodded. "Mr. Song. Ladies," He nodded to each of them in turn."

"Mr. Song?" The Doctor made a face.

` Dalek-Sven repeated. "DOCTOR MISTER SOOOONG!"

River grinned. "I quite like it. You should take my name, sweetie."

The officer cleared his throat. "I just need to ask how you got through the plasma membrane, ma'am. You see, it's only supposed to take in food and nutrients, and we're currently disposing of waste products."

"What else does your plasma membrane do?" River asked, cleverly buying them time to formulate an answer and gaining information to help them make it a good one.

The officer stroked his moustache. "Well, ma'am, it also builds and exports molecules, regulates the heat exchange, and, most importantly, regulates the flow of materials in and out of Eukaryopolis."

"Show me to the plasma membrane, and I'll explain to you how we got in."

The Doctor shifted nervously from foot to foot as River examined the phospholipid bilayer of the plasma membrane. There was no way they could have simply gotten through it. The hydrophilic heads would have let them through no problem, but the hydrophobic tails in the middle of the membrane were another story. Humans and Time Lords were over 70 percent water. No hydrophobe in its right mind would let them through!

River more carefully studied the transmembrane proteins that enabled the plasma membrane to carry out its gatekeeping functions. "We got in through passive transport," she explained. "The molecule we arrived in spontaneously diffused across the membrane."

"It was through diffusion," Clara piped in. "It was too crowded outside, so we moved from a high concentration gradient to a low concentration gradient."

"Simple diffusion- going through a membrane," River concluded. "We were in a solute that dissolved in a solvent."

"And it was facilitated diffusion, too," Clara added. "A carrier molecule transported us. We were quite welcome here."

The officer nodded. "And what kind of substance did you get here in?"

Everyone froze. If they said _Gallifreyum,_ they risked giving away the secrets of the Time Lords themselves.

"We got here in a water-ship," Kennedy quickly lied. "72nd century tech. The diffusion of water across a membrane is a special type of passive transport called osmosis. Because the concentration in here was lower- was hypotonic- we moved in. When it gets too crowded in here- hypertonic- then we'll leave. But as long as it stays perfectly equal- isotonic- then we are going to stay."

The officer nodded again. "Enjoy your stay."

"So, how are we getting around now?" Clara whispered as the officer disappeared into the distant cytoplasm.

"I believe we are being moved through active transport," the Doctor decided. "Energy is needed to get us around this cell."

"Is it primary active transport? Is our transport fueled by ATP?" Clara furthered.

"Or is it secondary active transport?" Kennedy, who was quite the doombringer today, suggested. "What if the cell is actually just moving us to try to move something else? No ATP used directly?"

"Actually, considering we're in vesicles, I believe it's endocytosis," the Doctor corrected them. "It's how cells absorb large particles- by engulfing them within their plasma membrane. Either it's phagocytosis, and we're being eaten; or it's pinocytosis, and we're dissolved particles being drunk."

As the vesicles began to shift once more, River made a suggestion of her own. "It's exocytosis, Doctor, and we're being transported for use in another location!"

Kennedy held on tightly to Dalek-Sven as they were rushed in a straight line towards the nucleus. She closed her eyes, attempting to make a telepathic connection with the largest and most prominent organelle in order to beg for mercy.

She envisioned herself walking up the the nucleus, leading the Voices on leashes. This was how she remained in control. First, she crossed the nuclear membrane, which surrounded the nucleus and separated it from the cytoplasm. Once inside, she lay her hands in the chromatin of DNA and wrote on it like a tablet. She was afraid to admit to herself that she was afraid. She didn't want to lose these friends the way that she'd lost Ollie. She wanted to sacrifice herself. She transcribed the DNA with her own.

Next, Kennedy envisioned herself in the nucleolus, where subunits of ribosomes were being assembled. She watched as these DNA packages were stamped with her face. She climbed inside of one and passed through the nuclear pores.

Despite the relative danger that they were in. Clara ogled at the wondrous number of organelles outside the confines of her vesicle. They whizzed along the cytoskeleton, which gave the cell its shape and ability to control its movement as well as serving as a highway. The were transported along thick, hollow microtubules. Durable, rope-like intermediate filaments gave Eukaryopolis its strength. Thin, rod-like microfilaments generated force to help the cell contract and divide. Cilia and flagella helped the planet itself to move along.

Clara waved at the city of Mitochondria in the distance. This was the cell's all-purpose energy converter, with its smooth outer membrane and stuffed-up insides. Clara wished she could explore the intermembrane space outside of the squished-up innards and the matrix within it. She thought about how cell mitochondria had DNA of its own, which supported the Doctor's endosymbiosis story.

A bit further along, lysosomes swallowed wastes into their acid-filled vesicles and disposed of them.

The vesicles travelled on into the endomembrane system. Just outside the nucleus, the endomembrane system produced and modified biological molecules. Clara gazed in wonder at the rough endoplasmic reticulum. The rough ER was a large series of interconnected, flattened sacs that was not unlike a stack of pancakes. Directly connected to the nuclear envelope and covered in ribosomes, the rough ER folded and packaged proteins to ship to other locations. She likened it to the packing and distribution center of the postal service.

While they were still a ways off from the nucleus, she saw the smooth ER, too. Without ribosomes attached, the smooth ER looked like a collection of branched tubes. It served in the synthesis of lipids and to help protect the cell from the many dangerous molecules that got in. For one terrifying moment, she feared that they were being transported to the smooth ER to be detoxified as if they were alcohol in a liver cell.

Thankfully, the vesicles continued on into the Golgi apparatus. This organelle served to process molecules synthesized in the cell and package those destined for use elsewhere. This was the delivery part of the postal service. She knew that the flattened stack of membranes were not interconnected. Their vesicles fused with the Golgi apparatus membrane and dumped the travellers into a Golgi body, As they were passed through each membrane, it was as if something outside of the cell was controlling it. Finally, the group was sent off in one large vesicle out of Eukaryopolis and straight-fire onto a new planet.

A sign just through the rigid cell wall read, "Welcome to Plant Cell City."

"Thank goodness we made it through the cell wall!" Clara exclaimed once they were safely inside the plant cell's central vacuole. "I thought it would be hard to get through since it's designed to provide additional protection and support for plant cells. It's nearly one hundred times thicker than a cell membrane!"

"Where are we now, Doctor?" River demanded, her hand resting on the gun in the holster at her hip.

"We are in the central vacuole!" he declared with a beaming grin. "This membrane-lined, fluid-filled sac is absolutely huge!" His voice echoed through the fluid that they breathed.

"It stores nutrients." He patted his stomach.

"It manages wastes." He giggled at himself as a fart escaped.

"It deters predators because it tastes nasty." He made a face as he took a deep breath.

"It contains colorful pigments that attract insects and help the plant with sexual reproduction." He winked at his wife, who rolled her eyes.

"And it provides physical support." He stood up straight and tall. "It's responsible for the turgor pressure that keeps a plant standing upright."

"We're in a plant cell!" Clara exclaimed. giddy with glee. "Oh my goodness, Doctor, can we witness photosynthesis? Oh, please?"

He smiled. "Well, of course. We are adventurers, after a-"

"No, we need to get out of here and get back," Kennedy cut in. She scowled at her roommate. "I have a huge test tomorrow, Clara. You know that."

"We have a time machine. Tomorrow is whenever we want it to be," the Doctor reminded her.

"Yeah? Then when is 'soon'?" Kennedy pushed her way out of the central vacuole and out into Plant Cell City.

Kennedy was fuming. All Clara ever cared about was herself and what she wanted to see. Clara wanted to see the Doctor again. Clara wanted to go back into the TARDIS. Clara wanted to see photosynthesis in action. Clara wanted to prove to everyone that she knew everything. Clara wanted more stories to not tell Danny Pink.

Kennedy scrubbed away the hot tears trickling down her face with the rough sleeve of her hoodie. Here she was, in _space._ She had the most wonderful friends in the world, and they could travel all throughout time and space. Heck, they could even go back to the 1700s and see the original experiments that measured plant matter and led to the discovery of photosynthesis! And here she was, crying her eyes out over a boy she knew for less than two days. She had allowed herself to become so depressed over a boy she was separated from by about thirty years in time. She was so stupidly brokenhearted over a boy she had kissed _once._

Oh, but he had been the _first._ He was the first person she'd ever really fallen for, the first person who'd ever made her forget the stupid lies she told herself every day: that she was undesirable, no one would ever want her, she would never find love, she was unlovable.

And, in the dead of night, when she was curled up against the crack in her wall, his screams filled her nightmares.

Clara was fed up with Kennedy. She'd had enough of her anger, sadness, and jealousy. She couldn't even talk to Danny, the cute, athletic boy she'd met in her education classes, without Kennedy walking away. With indignation of her own, she marched off to see the photosynthesis.

Photosynthesis required three inputs: sunlight, water, and CO2. Clara imagined that if the TARDIS ran on photosynthesis, then she would be the sunshine, Kennedy the water, and the Doctor- with all his chatter- the CO2. The two products were oxygen and sugar.

Clara first followed the beginning of the "photo" to one of the giant chloroplasts. Pushing her way past the pancake-like thylakoids, she found herself in the stroma. She backed up and looked inside one of the thylakoids, where the "photo" reactions would take place. Clara recalled that light energy travelled in waves that varied. "What did the photon say to the bellhop who offered his help?" she smiled to herself. "No thanks, I'm travelling light!" Clara sighed. That was one of Kennedy's many cheesy jokes. These photons were what powered sugar production in plants.

Sticking her hand outside of her travelling vesicle, Clara ran her fingers through the chlorophyll. When she pulled them back inside, they were green. She watched as the chlorophyll absorbed certain wavelengths of photons. She was so close, in fact, that she could see the absorbed energy excite the electrons. They were converting electromagnetic energy into the chemical energy of bonds between atoms.

The excited electrons did one of two things. While some returned to their resting, unexcited state, several of the excited electrons were passed to other atoms. Clara followed these electrons as they passed energy through the cell. This was the energy that the plant would need to make sugar for its own energy.

Clara followed the electron transport chain all the way to the second photosystem that it connected to, She studied them closer and realized that the electrons were actually little ships with people inside! "Excuse, what are you doing with the energy?" she inquired.

"As we pass through, we're collecting energy to make ATP!" a teeny-tiny electron man answered her. "The purpose of the electron transport chain is to collect energy to power ATP synthases!"

"And what is ATP synthases?"

"It makes ATP!"

"So, the excited electrons move through the electron transport chain to harvest energy, which is then used to make ATP?" she clarified.

"Yepper-dee-do-dah!" the cheery little man replied. "ATP is the #1 product of 'photo'!"

"Thank you!" Clara smiled.

She followed the electrons to the second photosystem. It was basically the same as the first, except for the product being manufactured. These excited electrons were used to produce the energized molecule NADPH.

"NADPH," Clara repeated to herself. "Never Allow the Doctor to Paint Houses. NADPH."

Now that the photo portion of photosynthesis was completed, Clara steered her vesicle towards the 'synthesis.' The action of the Calvin cycle took place in the stroma. Here, the captured sunlight was used to make food. She watched as the enzymes were recycled round and round in circles: ATP and NADPH- CO2 - Sugar.

It was fixation, sugar creation, regeneration, round and round like a merry-go-round. CO2 was the input for the Calvin cycle, It was run by the energy that came from the two photo systems, When the cycle was finished, out came sugar! Clara tasted a bit. It was not the refined sort of sugar that she was used to back on Earth.

Endearingly engrossed in the cell's processes, Clara followed the new sugar molecules to cellular respiration. She was excited by the process that converted food molecules into ATP, a universal source of energy for living organisms.

The inputs were simple: oxygen and sugar. The outputs, however, were extremely beneficial: CO2, water, and ATP. Cellular respiration was the process by which all plants and animals broke down food molecules, releasing the energy that went into creating them. ATP was needed to do anything and everything.

The first step that Clara witnessed was glycolysis. She watched as the sugar molecules were broken down into ATP and NADH. "NADH," she repeated to herself. "The P is in Photosynthesis. Here, it's just Never Allow the Doctor into Houses." Energy was needed to make energy, she realized

The glycolysis had ten steps. three of which yielded energy. ATP and glucose went in, only to be broken down by ATP. The end results were more ATP and NADH. The NADH molecules stored high-energy electrons.

Clara next followed the stages of cellular respiration to the Krebs cycle. Before the glucose molecules were allowed to enter, however, they needed to be further broken down for more energy. She observed the pyruvates of broken-down glucose that were converted into Acetyl-CoA. In this form, the energy was ready to go into the Krebs cycle.

The Acetyl-CoA that went into the Krebs cycle came out as three things: ATP, NADH, and FADH2. "FADH2. Forget Allowing the Doctor into Houses, Too." The NADH and FADH2 molecules held energy to power the electron transport chain.

Clara excitedly chased the molecules to the third and final step: the electron transport chain. This took place in the Mitochondria. She watched as ATP was built in the electron transport chain. This process was assisted by two key features of the mitochondria. Its bag-within-a-bag structure organized the process in the inner bag. However, even without the mitochondria, the cell would still be able to make a bit of ATP from the two former steps of cellular respiration.

In the electron transport chain, NADH and FADH2 were the electron carriers. They were little planes flown by electron-men. The little planes gave off hydrogen as the electrons skydived out, and the hydrogen combined with excess oxygen to make water.

Clara repeated the process of cellular respiration in her mind. It went from glycolysis to Acetoyl-CoA production to the Krebs cycle to the electron transport chain. It utterly amazed her how each step in the breakdown of food increased the amount of usable energy that was generated. Clara leaned back in her vesicle and watched ATP being made, astounded.

River needed a drink.

If Clara had been there, then she would have informed River that beer, wine, and spirits were by-products of cellular metabolism in the absence of oxygen.

However, instead of Clara, she had the Doctor, and he was already complaining of muscle cramps. "I hate exertion without enough oxygen!" he whined. "All this lactic acid buildup in my muscles is causing dreadful cramps."

"You know, the same process in yeast makes alcohol," River replied. "The electron acceptor is ochtaldehyde, and the product is ethanol. Anaerobic exertion in yeast leads to alcohol!"

"That's lovely," the Doctor grimaced, "but we need to find the girls."

"Give me the sonic, sweetie." River yanked the screwdriver out of her husband's pocket and pointed it at the nucleus. Using a sonic screwdriver was simple- just point and think.

"What are you doing?" the Doctor exclaimed. "You'll upset the balance of-"

"I'm commanding the cell to send the girls to us with active transport. You're going to need to recharge this afterwards." She hastily tossed the screwdriver back to him as the girls and the Dalek were brought forth inside their little vesicles.

"Oi! And how are we going to get back to the TARDIS?"

"Simple," River grinned. "Kennedy connected the Voices to the nucleus of Eukaryopolis, and she can do it again here."

"You what?!" the Doctor exclaimed, gaping at the little girl who evidently held enough power to make all the great civilizations of time and space writhe in envy. He would have to keep a close eye on that one. "Are you aware, Kennedy Humphries, that you took over an entire planet _with your mind_?"

"Whoops," she shrugged. "But I got us out, didn't I?"

"An entire planet!" he repeated. "Now, Kennedy, you can probably see that planet in your mind, can't you?" She nodded. "You'll need to take care of it, tend to it, now that it's yours."

Kennedy took a deep breath. "I didn't take over a planet, Doctor."

"What?"

She glanced at her feet, both afraid and exhilarated. "I kind of took over two. I really want to get home."

As if on cue, their vesicles began to shift towards the plasma membrane. When they were shoved out, the TARDIS was waiting with open doors. "And I kind of made a psychic connection with the TARDIS, too."

The Doctor shook his head. "Kennedy Humphries, what am I going to do with you?"

"You could take me back to the Institution," she mumbled.

The Doctor sighed.

"What?"

"Whatever you do, girls, don't read the _Galaxy Times_."

This time, goodbyes were made with promises to return, and consequences should those promises be broken. The Doctor made the girls promise to work things out between themselves, lest he not allow their bickering to return to the TARDIS. After bringing a new bottle of shampoo to River, they hugged their dear friends goodbye, safe and sound.

It was about a week later that she saw him. Kennedy was sulking back from literature class when a familiar, if greyer, voice called out her name.

"Kennedy Humphries?"

She turned around very slowly, untrustful of her own ears.

"Kennedy, it's me, Ollie. Ollie Edwards."

She whirled around and sprinted to him with open arms. "Ollie! How did you find- oh."

The man before her was not the Ollie she remembered. There were more wrinkles in his skin and more greys in his hair than the last time that she'd seen him. This version of Ollie, her Ollie, had traded in his youthful vigor for a wheelchair and his denim jacket for a sweater vest. He held out his hand to her. "Please, Kennedy."

Slowly but surely, she leaned closer to him, allowing him to take her hand. He pressed her small fingers to his lips. "I wanted to see you again, Kennedy, like this."

"What do you mean, like this?" she asked, running her thumb against the simple gold wedding band that adorned his hand, the only fanciful thing about this Ollie.

"In this form," he smiled gently. "Young. Vibrant. Human." He turned his hand over, studying his ring carefully. "I'm sorry, but I can't tell you."

She frowned. Then, she took a deep breath and a chance. For once in her life, she was determined to speak her mind. "Is it mine, Ollie?"

He merely made a straight line of his mouth to conceal the twinkle in his eye. "I'll see you again, Kennedy." He pressed her hand against his heart. "You are very special to me, Kennedy Humphries. You are very special to a lot of people. However-" He took a deep breath. Tears welled in her eyes. "I'm not allowed to tell you anything specific. Spoilers, right? But I can tell you one thing." His eyes glimmered brightly. "You are very special to very many people, one in particular. The diamond on your ring is mined from the planet Midnight itself. When the light hits it just right, it sings the most beautiful song in the universe. You are very loved, Kennedy." He removed a worn denim jacket from a pocket on the back of his chair and pressed it into her hands. "You keep this, Kennedy. I will see you again."

Holding back tears, she kissed his cheek. "I can't wait to see you again, Ollie."

As he disappeared into the distance, she wrapped the denim jacket across her shoulders.

She couldn't wait to see the Doctor again.


	5. Episode 5: The Trickster's Kiss

"So, let me get this straight- you travel through all of time and space in a giant blue box, and-"

"It's not a _giant_ blue box," Clara Oswald cut in, lightly placing her hand over Danny's to pause him. "It's just.. bigger on the inside."

Danny Pink wrinkled his nose in that endearing way that he had. "It's bigger on the _inside_?" Clara nodded. "Well, blimey! That's… brilliant."

She beamed. Finding a good man was difficult when studying abroad, and she was beyond blessed to have found Danny Pink. He was everything that she needed- kind, trustworthy, intelligent, dependable, and, most of all, British. The tapped her biology textbook. "See, the TARDIS is like… the DNA of the universe. It contains the instructions for the development and functionality of all living organisms. That's why it always takes the Doctor wherever he needs to be."

Danny nodded. "So, could you, like… visit Rosalind Franklin?"

Clara beamed. "Way ahead of you."

She'd made a timeline of the Doctor's comings and goings, which allowed her to anticipate when he would next arrive. This was precisely why she'd set this exact time for a study date with Danny. "Three..two…"

 _VWORP! VWORP! VWORP!_

"Doctor!" Clara jumped from her picnic bench and greeted the Doctor with a bear hug.

"Clara!" he returned.

"Who's this?" River and Danny said simultaneously, each eyeing the other suspiciously.

"That's my sortofboywifefriend Rivrny."

"That's my boyfriend Danny," Clara clarified.

"And my wife River," the Doctor added.

Clara stepped past the Doctor and into the TARDIS, leading Danny behind her. "Come on, Doctor! Let's go pay a visit to James Watson and Francis Crick and set them straight!"

"Excuse me, but, my TARDIS," the Doctor scowled, standing between Clara and the control panel. "And where's Kennedy?"

Clara shrugged. "She said she was busy. She's kind of over time travel at the moment."

The Doctor nodded. If he had two planets, a Dalek, a broken boy, and a two alien races running through the network of his brain, he would want some time off, too. Besides, Clara seemed to believe this was some sort of double date.

"We're going to set those idiots straight!" River declared in a surge of righteous feminist anger. She grabbed control of the TARDIS and powered them back into the 1950s.

River led the way out into the bar. "Doctor, give the boy your psychic paper. Drinking age in the 50s is 21 for lads, but 18 for women."

The Doctor handed Danny his wallet. "It shows what they need to see," he explained.

Danny nodded, gazing around the real, live… past. He gestured towards a young woman who was talking excitedly with two men at the bar. "Is that Rosalind Franklin?"

River started to march towards the men who stole the female researcher's discovery of the double helix shape of DNA without her knowledge, but the Doctor grabbed her arm. "Fixed point in time," he sighed sadly. "Nothing we can- or should try- to do."

"This is just like the time you wouldn't let me kill Hitler," River spat. "Doctor, Rosalind blasted DNA samples with x-rays onto photographic paper and discovered its structure in the 40s. These men are going to take her conclusion but give her no credit!"

"And her work will kill her before she can share their Nobel Prize," Danny added. He swaggered up towards Watson and Crick. These were the two scientists who, without doing their own research, would receive a Nobel Prize in 1962 after the publication of their groundbreaking paper in 1953. Danny tapped Watson on the shoulder, only to be ignored. Next, he suavely cut in on the conversation, offering to dance with "brilliant" Rosalind before she could dispel any more of her research to the pair of flirtatious cheats.

"That's my Danny," Clara smiled. While they waited for Danny to finish his dance with Rosalind, she decided to entertain the Doctor and River with facts about DNA. "Did you know that the structure of DNA is made up of a sugar and phosphate backbone? And the two backbones are connected by four kinds of bases, which are joined by base pairs-"

"Let's not sit about chatting about DNA," the Doctor grinned. "Let's go see it for ourselves!" As the song ended, he led the way back to his TARDIS, a grand king marshalling a celebration.

Kennedy strolled through campus by herself, studying for her next world religions test. "Karl Jaspers , the German philosopher, called 800 to 200 BCE the Axial Age of religion because the religious revolution in India, among other places, had begun." She flipped to the next digital flashcard on her phone. She wondered if she should text Clara. Maybe not. Her roommate hadn't been a very attentive study buddy since she started dating _Danny_. "Many major religions were beginning around this time," she read to herself. "There were Hebrew prophets, Jainism, Confusus, among others, moving towards the idea of monotheism. They also began to turn from ritual to ethics and from local to universal ideas of religion."

She read the next card out loud. "What can you tell me about Hinduism?"

"Well, I am capable of providing you with any knowledge that you so desire, Queen."

Kennedy jumped at the sound of the silvery voice that called her.

He chuckled, all soft and sly. "There is no reason to fear me, Queen." A long, slender arm snaked its way around her shoulders from behind. "You must relax, _Inkeri_ , dear."

Every muscle in Kennedy's body froze. She turned slowly to face this unrecognizable man. "What did you just call me?'

"I called you by your name, my dearest," the lithe redhead grinned. "Inkeri, the Queen of Many Realms, are you not?"

"What kind of a pickup line is that?" Kennedy forced out. This weirdo must have been one of the international students…

The man only laughed. "The Trickster has many lines, Queen, but none that shall be required to fulfill this particular scheme."

"Wait." Kennedy froze again. Trickster? Red hair? Schemes? It couldn't be. "Are you… are you _Loki_?"

"Of course I am," the mythological being replied. "And you're Inkeri."

"No, I'm Kennedy," she corrected him. "And you're not real."

Loki laughed again, like the sound a cowbell makes as the bovine runs for the hills. "Stories are where memories go when they are forgotten, dear Queen. Are you not aware that Asgard is a planet all its own?"

Kennedy scowled. "And let me guess, you want me to help you take over it?" It was just her luck that when her favorite mythological character was real…

"No, Inkeri, I only came to see your power for myself," he explained. "I wish for Odin not to get ahold of it himself." Loki moved from having his arm awkwardly around her to gently holding her hand. "The last time the Old Man took advantage of someone led to the First Ragnarok. Not again."

Kennedy nodded. She thought of Olly and pulled her hand away. "You said you could give me any knowledge I desired?" Her phone suddenly beeped with a message. Wanting to show Loki that he was not the boss of her, she stopped to check.

 _ **Going to study DNA with the Doctor and Danny. I'll be home in time for dinner. -Clara**_

Clara had gone off with the Doctor (1) after they'd agreed not to tell anyone about him, and (2) without Kennedy? She looked Loki straight in the eye. "If you exist somewhere, then so do the Hindu gods. I have a huge test next week. Take me to visit them."

With a sly smile, Loki took her hand in his again. Before Kennedy could object, they'd apparated.

"Cell division is preceded by chromosome replication," the Doctor narrated as he maneuvered the TARDIS inside the nucleus of Eukaryopolis. He led the way out and into the DNA viewing area.

"Look at that sugar phosphate backbone!" Clara gasped, pressing her nose up against the glass. Her eyebrows furrowed, leaving streaks. "Why is there a visitor's center now?"

The Doctor smiled. "Kennedy must have added one. She's learning how to work _with_ what the Voices link to."

"Kennedy _what_?" Danny exclaimed. However, before he could get a response, the five numbered carbon atoms took his breath away. "Blimey! They're even building in the 5 to 3 direction! They're only adding from the 3 side!"

"Watch! Watch! They're about to start another one!" Clara gazed on in amazement as a large man in security clothes separated two lines of bases. _He must be helicase_ , she thought to herself.

Next, a woman in a bright pink pantsuit led a few blindfolded bases to the beginning of one strand of DNA. She was DNA primase. When the bases were finally revealed to their new partners, they leaped and danced and kissed and embraced, ready to be united as hydrogen bonds. This was just the beginning.

Finally, DNA polymerase, a tall lady in a sparkly gown, led a long train of bases out to meet their matches, completing a new strand of DNA.

"Would you like to meet some of the bases?" the Doctor asked.

"Of course!" Clara declared.

The Doctor tapped in the window, and one of the polymerases came out to greet him. "Hello! I'm the Doctor."

"Would you like to meet your perfect match?" the polymerase asked. Before he could answer, or River could object, the polymerase led them to the Happy Hydrogen Bonds ™ quizzing room. "We have a 100% success rate of finding your perfect complementary base!"

The questionnaire begin with one simple question: Are you an A, T, C, or G?  
"What does that mean?" Danny inquired.

The polymerase smiled. Gently, she explained. "These are our four genders. A's can only pair with T's, and C's can only pair with G's."

Danny set down his pen. "You know, I think I'm good, actually."

River, in turn, plucked the pen from the Doctor's hand. "I don't want to know what either of us get, sweetie," she explained quietly. The Doctor nodded. She might get the entire universe. He might get Rose Tyler.

"What if I'm a U?" Clara piped in.

"Then this way, please," the polymerase said quietly. "We'll take you to transcription."

"DNAs code for proteins," the women whom the polymerase had passed them off to explained. "Proteins are what really do the job. So, it's our job to build the proteins. There are two steps: transcription and translation.

"However, not all of the DNA is used for coding proteins. A good amount of it is, unfortunately, junk DNA.

"This is why genome size has nothing to do with organism complexity. For example, the now-extinct Time Lords had a genome only 1 millionth the size of the genome of an Ood. Most would argue that the scientifically advanced and deeply wise Time Lords were far more complex than the simple-minded and gentle Ood."

River reached for the Doctor's hand. He was the last of the Time Lords.

"Non-coding DNA is cut out in transcription, right?" Clara piped in. "The introns?"

The tour guide nodded. "And, little one, can you tell me what a genotype is?"

Clara nodded readily. "It's all of the genes contained in an organism. However, a phenotype is just the traits that it shows. For example, I have a phenotype for brown hair."

"Very lovely brown hair," Danny whispered in her ear. Clara smiled.

"In transcription, the gene's sequence is copied from DNA to a middleman molecule called mRNA," the lady continued. "mRNA is a single-stranded copy of the DNA. Instead of T, its A's match with U." She nodded to Clara. "Before the introns are removed, it is called pre-mRNA."

"Now, do we get to see translation?" Danny asked.

The tour guide led them on.

"Welcome to the Translation Factory!" the tour guide beamed. In the ribosomal units, the troop observed the mRNA copy's translation into the language of proteins.

The ingredients were simple: ribosomal units, free amino acids, and tRNA. Trios of bases traveled together along the mRNA until they found the codon that matched them. They joined in complementary bases, adding their amino acid to the ever-growing polypeptide chain. The end result was a protein.

"It's like a scientific fairytale," Clara smiled. "Everyone finds their perfect match."

"Yes, but what if there's a mutation?" River inserted. "What if a base falls in love with a base who isn't her complimentary base, or someone leaves or goes and inserts himself where he's not supposed to be?"

"This alteration of the sequence of bases can be deleterious," the tour guide sighed.

"It can lead to changes in the structure and function of the protein that's produced.

"Now, it doesn't lead to mutants, per say, but the majority of mutations show no change in the proteins."

"Here, in this somatic cell, no mutations will be passed onto offspring," Clara furthered. "But if this was a gamete- a sex cell- then, any mutations would be passed on, such as a genetic disease."

"It's sort of like how the TARDIS mutated my parents' gametes when they became time travellers," River added. "I have a bit of regeneration energy of my own."

"That, I believe, was a substitution," the Doctor explained. "The bases that should've given you a human lifespan were swapped for the ones that code for regenerations." He squeezed her hand. "For which I am very happy."

"But if River's mutation had been an insertion or a deletion, then everything after those bases would've been wrong," Clara said.

The Doctor nodded. "That's what's called a frame shift."

"That's tough to think about, everything in me being wrong…" River nodded. "I need a drink."

They slipped back to the TARDIS where River had a stash of wine. She offered some to the Doctor, but he shook his head. "No thank you, dear, I have a fast flush response."

River laughed heartily. "Oh, my delicate little flower."

"Oi! It's not my fault that this body got a mutated gene that codes for a non-functioning protein!" the Doctor ranted. "My non-functioning enzyme can't catalyze the normal reaction, so what?"

"So, the molecule it won't react with accumulated, and it could cause illness or death," River replied. "But in your case, you just can't keep your wine down!"

The Doctor made a face. "Well, I think it's nasty, anyway."

The Doctor flew the TARDIS away from Eukaryopolis just in time to watch mitosis.

They'd been there during Interphase, when the DNA was doubled. Now, however, the cell was about to divide into two genetically identical daughter cells.

He pushed open the door and expanded the air bubble so that his band of travelers could be witness to Prophase. The nuclear membrane disintegrated, and the sister chromatids condensed. The spindle fiber was erected, a connection of cables to manipulate the chromatids.

Next, in Metaphase, the chromatids lined up along the planet's equator.

In Anaphase, the spindle fibers pulled the chromatids to opposite poles of the cell. One full set went to each side.

Finally came Telophase. The chromatids uncoiled as the nuclear membranes reformed around them. It began to split into a cleavage.

The cell pinched off into two daughter cells in cytokinesis. The cytoplasm and organelles were divided equally between the twin planets. This was the end of mitosis.

"That was amazing!" Clara exclaimed. "So beautiful! Could you imagine if it kept going? The whole galaxy might be filled with new cells!"

"I believe that would be cancer, actually," Danny replied solemnly. "Unrestrained cell division forms tumors, and it can metastasize into other parts of the body through the bloodstream.

"My grandad had cancer when I was a kid. It was caused by carcinogens- cancer-causing chemicals, Some people get it from UV or x-rays. It causes a mutation.

"Cancer cells lack contact inhibition, which means that they don't know to stop dividing when they bump into something else. They also have a reduced stickiness factor- they aren't held together very well, which is why they move around.

"Some tumors are benign and they don't move, However, like my grandad's, some are malignant and do end up moving around. The tumors in both his lungs killed him by affecting the nearby tissue. It choked him to death, because that's what cancer cells do- they steal resources and crush the important systems."

"Danny, I'm so sorry." Clara hugged him.

"Thank you," Danny replied, wiping away a tear. "That means a lot; it really does."

"Last sight of the day," the Doctor announced. "Meiosis!"

There was a planet not too far off that was a giant gamete. It wasn't one of the universe's greatest treasures, but this process was important for the students to learn all the same.

"Gametes are haploids, which means they have half the number of chromosomes that diploids do," he explained. "In humans, gametes are eggs or sperm, respectively. They are produced through meiosis."

Meiosis I began with an Interphase in which the chromosomes replicated. The original cell was a diploid, with its homologous pairs of maternal and paternal chromosomes.

Prophase I commenced. The replicated chromatids condensed and crossed over. They swapped alleles with their partners. This would lead to genetically unique offspring. The spindle formed as the nuclear membrane disintegrated.

Next, in Metaphase I, the chromatids lined up along the equator.

Anaphase I sent the chromosomes to different poles in a random assortment. No certain quota of maternal or paternal chromatids were required for either side. This, too, would help lead to genetically unique offspring.

Telophase I and Cytokinesis split the gamete into two daughter cells.

Now, Meiosis II would separate the sister chromatids, forming haploids.

The DNA was not duplicated again in Interphase II. The chromatids recondensed and moved on.

They lined up along the equator in Metaphase II.

In Anaphase II, the sister chromatids were pulled apart to opposite poles. Each

pair was separated in half.

Finally, in Telophase II, the two cells pinched off into four genetically unique haploid cells.

This cell was a sperm, meaning it would determine the sex of the offspring at fertilization because it held both X and Y chromosomes. Females had two X's.

"Sexual reproduction is my favorite," River laughed. The Doctor gave her a face, but she described the advantages. "Think of it this way. It produces genetically unique offspring! It switches alleles from two parents at fertilization. Crossing over during the production of gametes. And, shuffling and reassembly of the chromatids during meiosis!"

"You're certainly much different than your parents," the Doctor replied.

"Bacteria reproduce asexually," River replied. "They're all the same. How boring."

"Yes, but at least they have all of their same genes passed on," the Doctor observed. "Like the Daleks. They don't have to spend time or energy finding a mate, and there's no risk of genetic mistakes or being eaten like a black widow spider's mate."

"Speaking of Daleks, should we check in with Kennedy?" River said.

Loki and Kennedy materialized in a jungle unlike any place she had seen before. "This is… exquisite," she gasped, finally letting go of her death grip on Loki's hand.

"Welcome to the birthplace of Hinduism," Loki smiled. "It was and has always been visitors from this planet, Nirvana, who spread and preserved Hinduism on Midgard."

Kennedy ran her hand through drooping palm leaves. "You know what I like about Hinduism?" Maybe a mythological Norse god didn't care what she thought about other religions, but Kennedy was going to tell him anyway. "I love how inclusive it is. It never seems to forget any aspect it ever had, and it's so open to new ideas and movements. Like, as a Hindu, you can be animistic, polytheistic, even atheist. You can follow any number of the deities, or none at all, and still be Hindu. And it all comes down to that essential monism- everything is one."

"Their ideals certainly are interesting," Loki nodded. Leading the way through the jungle, he continued their discussion. "I enjoy reading Hindu scriptures myself. There's not just one all-important book, you know.

"First and most important is the Vedas. This 'sacred knowledge' comprises the oldest Hindu texts. It's divided into four sections."

"It's divided into Vedas, right?" Kennedy added. "And the first book is the Rig Veda, which is over a thousand hymns to the dieties."

Loki nodded again. "Next comes the Yajur Veda, the text concerning sacrifice. Then is the Sama Veda, the collection of ritual texts. And, finally, the Atharva Veda, which contains chants for the home and spells and incantations to keep evil away."

"What other scriptures do the Hindus use?' Kennedy inquired. As long as she had him here, she might as well pick his brain. "Aren't the Brahmanas ritually oriented? Like, they give instructions for sacrifice and rituals? And they were from 800 BCE."

"Yes, Inkeri." Loki glanced at her as if he was seeing her for the first time again. "You are as intelligent as I have already heard, if not more. Tell me about the Aranyakas."

"Well, those are the 'forest writings'," Kennedy began. "They center on the idea that Hindus should renounce everything and go live in the forest as a hermit at the end of their lives." That sort of lifestyle held a bit of appeal for quiet, introverted Kennedy. "And while we're still talking about Hindu scriptures, the Upanishads are 'sitting near a teacher.' They're from around 800-300 BCE. They're like, the most highly philosophical of the Hindu scriptures because they're working out the idea of monism."

"Yes, my dear," Loki smiled. "Everything here is one."

"What does that make us?" she wondered.

"When you reach Nirvana, you become one," he replied, taking her hand again. "Come, let's explore."

As the day stretched out before them, the girl and the god immersed themselves in the Hindu culture. They practiced yoga with the sadhus, danced with Shiva, and even bathed in the Ganges. Kennedy felt at one with herself, her heart, and her universe.

Reclining on the riverbanks in a purple sari gifted to her by Vishnu, Kennedy smiled at her mythological tour guide. "Thank you for bringing me here, Loki. I finally feel at peace."

The Trickster smiled back. "It is my pleasure, Inkeri." Inching closer to her, he slid his arm under her neck to make her more comfortable. "Tell me, dearest. What is now in your mind?"

She closed her eyes. "It's so quiet. Everything is…. One."

"And are you prepared for your exam?"

She laughed. "I can feel all of the history and knowledge and reality of Nirvana rushing through me. I hope it stays."

"Imagine yourself in a bubble," he said. "Hold the knowledge inside with you, but don't let anything on the outside change."

"Hmm?" Opening her eyes, she faced her new friend.

"To keep from altering this realm," he explained. "You said you were one with Nirvana. Surely it is now connected." He tapped her temple.

"Crap," she muttered. "Does that mean you're a part of the… Voices? Now?"

Loki nodded slowly.

She jumped to her feet and kicked sand at him. "You tricked me! I should've known!"

"No, my dearest, I did it to protect you!" he exclaimed, leaping up to stop her from leaving his side. "You must understand, my queen. Many seek to control your power, but I can disguise it! I can fool them and keep them away from you!"

"What?" she demanded. "I have no idea what you're even talking about! The only things in my network are my Dalek friend, two cell planets, an alien race, and Ollie. No one is coming for me."

As she started to trudge off, Loki grabbed her hand. Rather than reply, he kissed her, and suddenly, she saw everything.

Not just one Dalek, but all of them. The Amisuum nearly driving Ollie mad. The Voices coming to his rescue with dreams- dreams of her. The tales he told. The legends that spread throughout time and space. Inkeri, the Queen of Many Realms. Every great leader envied her power to seduce things into her hive mind. They wished to control her. They wished to use her. They wished to abuse her. And they always got what they wanted.

When she started to pull away, Loki pulled her closer.

After the Fourth Ragnarok, the legends spread through Asgard like wildfire. Newborn Loki heard the tales of Inkeri from the time he was small. She was a heroine, a constellation, a warrior, a queen. She was an adventuress, a genius, a miracle. She was a human. Young Loki fell in love with the woman in the stories, his favorite mythological being. He always believed the tales to be true. He didn't like the way the tales ended. He was changing his own. He was changing hers.

He'd come out of time so that he could get to her first.

"Wow," she breathed, laying her head against Loki's chest.

He rubbed her back, chuckling, "I get that quite a bit."

She rolled her eyes. "Not you. I meant… everything else. Everything you showed me. That's me? That's my future?"

"No," Loki said sternly, "It's not,because we're going to change it."

"We?" She stepped back, looking him in the face. "I'm sorry, but I have a boyfriend, sort of."

Loki shook his head. "No, you don't. Oliver Edwards is-"

"On another planet, I know," she sighed. "Anyhow, what are we going to do?"

He kissed her again, once, quickly. "Now you know, my dearest. Now that you know what is to come, you can change it."

"I thought time didn't work that way."

Loki laughed. "I've never been one to play by the rules."

She smiled. "Well, the Doctor is, and speaking of which, I have a test to study for. Take me home."

"Of course, my dearest." The Trickster took her hand and flashed them home.

"Where have you been?" The Doctor demanded, popping out of the TARDIS after it landed in the middle of the girls' dorm room.

"I've been out," Kennedy shrugged, flipping another page in her World Religions textbook. "Out studying for finals. And you? Travelling without me?"

"Sorry," Danny Pink cut in, helping Clara out of the ship. "That one's sort of my fault."

Kennedy merely shrugged again. "Not my problem. My day has been very…. Relaxing."

"When would you like to go?" the Doctor stood in front of Kennedy's desk. "Anywhere in time and space. Your turn to choose."

She shook her head. "Sorry, Doctor, but I have finals to study for. Maybe in the fall."


End file.
